


29 Songs

by Power-Bottom-Barba (Cap_Against_The_Clap)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Typical Mentions of Sexual Assault and Violence, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Against_The_Clap/pseuds/Power-Bottom-Barba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lovers, two years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. just another phase of finding what I really need

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in like ten years, so rather than try anything too ambitious I thought I would write a series of smutty short pieces. But because I AM ambitious I thought I would try to make them tell a story. Inspired by the movie 9 Songs, which tells the story of a relationship through sex. Each chapter will follow the timeline of the cases, and will fulfill a prompt from a "30 Days of Porn" challenge. I'm not tagging for various sexual acts unless someone makes a good case for it. They have a lot of explicitly consensual sex.
> 
> Canon compliant through the end of season 17.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One Prompt: Fantasizing.  
> S16, E13 - Decaying Morality.

“Either way, Luke Davis is looking at felony murder.” Barba plucked his coat off the rack by the door as he turned to go. 

“You think?” Sonny stepped toward him, words bubbling up before he could stop them. “You do know the defendant gets a free pass on that if he can show he acted under extreme emotional duress.” 

“Booyah Fordham Law! The facts are clear. Luke Davis kidnaps Jerome Jones, tortures him, within an hour, Jerome's dead.” 

He had sensed the jab was coming before it left Barba's lips. As soon as he'd spoken he knew how elementary his observation had been. His mouth ran faster than his thoughts; it wasn't the first time he'd opened it and shoved his foot in. He rolled his eyes and turned away to cover his embarrassment. He realized he'd missed whatever the Sarge had just said. Fin was speaking. 

“And if Jerome is good for the rape...” 

Nick cut him off. “But no way a jury convicts Luke.” 

“Thank you for your support,” Barba's voice had a ring of finality to it – the last words on the matter. “If you come to the arraignment, keep your mouth shut.” He didn't give them a chance to reply before he was out the door of Benson's office and crossing the squad room. 

There was something comforting about the evidence that he wasn't the only one to feel the sting of Barba's biting comments, but no one else seemed to bear the brunt of it like Sonny did. He didn't feel he deserved it; he admired the ADA, wanted to impress him, was eager to bounce ideas off him. Was that so wrong? 

“Hey, Barba, hold up!” Long legs made it easy for Sonny to catch up just as the elevator doors were opening. Barba turned and fixed him in a green-eyed stare that suddenly made him feel like he had been cold-called in class; nervous and dry-mouthed in a way he couldn't quite explain. If he were any less sure of himself, the other man's arching eyebrow would leave him tongue tied and have him in retreat. Something about Barba left him flustered in a way no one else did. 

“Can I help you, Carisi?” Barba held his briefcase in front of the elevator door to keep it from closing. 

“No. I mean, yeah.” True to form when Barba was concerned, Sonny plunged ahead without planning what he was going to say. “Is there a reason you can't pass up a shot at me, counselor?” 

If Barba was surprised by Sonny's confrontation, it didn't show on his face. He only smirked, a wry quirk of his lips that made Sonny feel flushed. It wasn't like him to suffer a lack of confidence; only Barba shook him like this, and he didn't know why. 

“I had no idea you were so thin-skinned, Carisi. I wouldn't have expected you to make it through year one of law school, let alone last as a detective.” The sarcasm in his tone had Sonny rolling his eyes again. 

“Yeah yeah, ha ha, but this is what I'm talking about. I get it, you're an ass, that's your thing. But what is it about me that's always got you talking to me like I'm an idiot? Because I know I'm not.” He hoped that didn't sound as petulant out loud as it did in his head. 

Barba didn't respond with the quick and biting quip that Sonny expected. Instead, he seemed to consider him, sweeping his eyes over him from toe to tip in a way that left Sonny feeling exposed. 

“I suppose I'm just waiting to see what you're good for.” There was only one way to describe the look on Barba's face – challenging. Something Sonny didn't even know what inside him rose up in his chest, his heart hammering, pulse rushing in his ears. He was ready to meet that challenge. 

Two long strides closed the distance between him and Barba. One hand pressed against the ADA's chest, feeling the expensive silk of his pocket square between his fingers as he crowded the shorter man back into the elevator, his back pushed up against the wall. His briefcase hit the floor, and the doors slid closed behind them. 

“Is that all you're waiting for, counselor?” His voice was low and more heavily accented than usual; practically a rumble. It was the bedroom voice he used with his girlfriends, and if asked he couldn't have said why it was coming out now. Or at least, he wouldn't have wanted to say. There were some things he wasn't ready to say to himself, even as his lips were grazing the shell of Barba's ear with every word he spoke. “You should have just said so. I’m good for a lot of things.”

Barba said only, “We’ll see,” before his long fingers grasped the back of Sonny’s head, pulling his mouth to his. Barba’s parted lips were softer than Sonny had expected, and when his tongue licked into his mouth he tasted like coffee. The kiss shot straight through Sonny to his dick, and he moaned into Barba’s mouth even as he pressed his hips forward against the other man. Hands on Barba’s shoulders, he pressed him back against the wall of the elevator, his knee pushing between the other man’s. He could feel the press of Barba’s erection on his thigh, heard him hiss at the contact.

“That’s right, show me,” Barba’s words ghosted across Sonny’s lips as he took hold of his hips, pulling him hard against him, chasing the friction through their clothes. Sonny couldn’t remember the last time he had been this turned on, this fast. He cut off Barba’s goading with another kiss, swallowing his moans, determined to wipe the smirk off the lawyer’s face, to show him just how good he could be. And Sonny, ever eager, could be very, very good.

The loud dinging of the elevator started him and he blinked. Barba was still standing in front of him, the smirk on his face turned impatient. The elevator’s chime complained of the doors still being held open as Barba tapped his briefcase against them.

“Well, detective? Did you need something, or are you just planning to stand there with your mouth open?” Barba took a step into the elevator, now holding the door open from the inside.

Sonny was shaken from the vivid nature of the fantasy that had just gripped him. He had no idea where it had come from – he wasn’t even gay, let alone the type to imagine grabbing colleagues and kissing them in elevators. He swallowed thickly, whole body still buzzing. His cheeks were burning and he hoped that Barba couldn’t tell.

“I… no, nah. Forget it.” He waved a hand, taking an uneasy step back. He hoped it came off more casually than he felt.

“Good. I have to go prep for this disaster of a case.” He moved his hand, stepping back as the elevator doors slid closed. 

Once he was alone in the hallway, Sonny let out a shaking breath and slumped over, bracing his hands on his knees. He was painfully hard, straining against his suit pants, and said a quick prayer that Barba hadn’t noticed. It felt a little blasphemous, but there were worse sins.

“What the hell was that?” he groaned, confused. He straightened up and slipped into the washroom, hoping to hide there until he felt like himself again and… whatever it was that had just come over him, passed.

He hoped it would pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from Damien Rice's "Volcano".  
> Don't read too much into the songs, they aren't meant to be companions.
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know!


	2. every time I see your face I think of things impure unchaste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two Prompt: Masturbation.  
> S16, E15 - Undercover Mother.

Rafael leaned against the wall of his shower and let the hot water flow over him, wishing he were back in bed.

He’d already bolted down one cup of coffee, what was left from the day before, but he wasn’t feeling the effects yet. Hoping the pot he’d started brewing before he got in the shower would help chase away his grogginess, he knuckled at his eyes before resting his forehead against the tile.

Monday morning had come far too early, particularly after he’d spent most of the previous day at the SVU squad room helping them sort out their ridiculous Super Bowl Sunday undercover sting. While what Benson had said was true and they didn’t need his permission for stunts like this, if they were going to cost him his only day off, he wished they would get it. 

The precinct had been a madhouse, full of underage girls, undercover officers who looked like they were in high school, traffickers, detectives, and johns. Not to mention Fin, Benson, and Murphy in their absurd costumes. He wasn’t sure how they had fooled anyone. And of course there was Carisi, sitting sullenly behind bars with an icepack and a bloody nose.

Rafael sighed heavily at the thought of the young detective, turning and leaning his back against the tiles. letting the water stream down his face and chest.

Carisi was a problem.

It wasn’t that he was a poor detective. Rafael had to admit that he was competent, even talented. While he was beginning to approach the level of professionalism the rest of his squad displayed, it all seemed to go out the window the moment Rafael became involved. The man suddenly turned into the boy in class with his hand waving in the air. The last thing he needed was a sycophantic law student gazing at him like he was a celebrity, jumping up to chime in with his rudimentary ‘insights’, every inch of him begging for approval, validation. It would barely seem out of place to reach out, stroke his hair, and call him a good boy – and oh, he did not need thoughts like that, either.

That was the other inconvenient bit about Carisi. There was something appealing about his guileless desire to please, his hopeful smiles, the deep dimples that appeared the moment his lips so much as twitched upward. And his lips, pink and plush, the way his tongue would dart out to moisten them before he spoke – that was a problem, too. And the way he moved his narrow-fingered hands as he spoke. And his long legs, tapered hips with one always cocked out, and his round ass like a peach, and –  
A problem. All of it. 

At first, Carisi hadn’t even been on his radar. With his absurd mustache and ill-fitting suits, he had done a fair job of concealing just how attractive he was. Even as his style improved, his good looks had been little more than a pleasant bit of background noise in his day to day interactions with the squad. It simply wasn’t like Rafael to be distracted by a colleague. He was an ambitious man, and a man with enough sense to know what a bad idea that kind of attraction could be. 

He was also an observant man, and that is where things started to go sideways. His talent for reading people, well-honed from years of litigation, had made it impossible for him to miss the way Carisi was looking at him lately. Standing even closer than usually, eyes trailing after Rafael as he moved through a room. Rafael had caught the detective more than once recently looking at his mouth, even as he not-so-subtly chewed at the inside of his own lip. A few weeks past he had even chased him to an elevator only to gape at him open-mouthed and then back away, pink-cheeked.

It was clear that somewhere along the way, Carisi’s hero-worship and admiration had turned into a school-boy crush. His ill-hidden attraction had a way of making his good looks much more noticeable. The more Rafael had noticed, the more he saw. There was something sweet about Carisi under the brashness. He was agreeable, good-natured, amiable, and so damn earnest. Perhaps it was because Rafael was so acerbic and querulous that he found himself possessing a sudden weakness for the detective’s eager and straightforward affability. 

Or maybe it was because Carisi was thirty years old, lean and hot, with a mouth made for sin.

Bad idea or not, Rafael skimmed his hand over the front of his body, fingertips tracing the paths the water ran down his skin. He was already tumescent as his long fingers left the softness of his middle to wrap around his cock. Only a few strokes and he was hard.

On sudden impulse, he switched to his left hand. Cliché, perhaps, but effective. The image of Carisi filled his mind and it was easy to imagine the younger man wrapping his hand around him, uncertain but enthusiastic, leaning in close.

_‘Is that right, counselor?’_

He could practically hear that Staten Island accent in his ear. Keeping his grasp loose, he jerked himself slowly, licking his lips as his breathing got shallow. That’s just how Carisi would be, he was sure of it, eager to please and hungry for praise.

_‘That’s good, right? Come on… I’ll make it good, tell me what you want…’_

He groaned at the thought, speeding up the motion of his hand. “Harder, faster,” he sighed aloud, shameless in the privacy of his own home. He knew that Carisi would do as he was told, so sweet and so willing, so desperate to be good. 

Pre-come dripped from his cock and mixed with the warm water, further slicking his way as he tightened his hold, twisting his wrist at the top of the stroke to drag the flat of his palm over the head. He’d be embarrassed by how fast this was happening in any other situation. In that moment, however, he simply gave himself over to the fantasy.

_‘Yeah, you like that, like that? That’s how I like it, too… wanna make you come, counselor, can I? Be so good for you, I promise, come on…’_

A choked gasp and a low moan, and he came with such intensity that he nearly lost his balance.

Catching his breath, he looked down at his left hand, holding it out so the water could wash away the evidence of his climax. It wasn’t the first time that Rafael had pleasured himself to fantasies of the younger man, and he doubted it would be the last. 

Sonny Carisi was definitely a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from Liz Phair's "Flower".  
> Hahah, this filthy little song actually fits pretty well. Shame on you Barba.
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (I don't feel previous canonical relationships with women preclude same sex attraction, as same sex interests have not been explicitly excluded.)


	3. you want part of me (you want the whole thing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three Prompt: Licking into (his) mouth.  
> S16, E16 - December Solstice.
> 
> This chapter is on the long side. Sonny's POV doesn't lend itself to brevity.

Sonny stepped up to the bar of the restaurant near the courthouse where the squad always ate during trials. He’d been craving this chicken stuffed with asparagus, and so had volunteered to run some witness statements down to the DA’s office, figuring he could pick up dinner on his way home. 

He had also offered to run the errand with the hopes that he would see Barba. He hadn’t seen the ADA since the plea deal had been finalized for the Briggs case, and Sonny wasn’t entirely proud of his reaction. It had been a weak case from the beginning, and he had pushed hard for charges to be brought. With some reflection he knew it was impressive that Barba had managed to get a deal at all; he felt like he should have told him that instead of complaining about how more should have been done. 

Unfortunately, it seemed that Barba had already gone for the night, so Sonny had dropped off the papers and crossed the street to pick up his dinner.

“Hey, hiya. I got a takeout order. Sonny Carisi?” He pulled out his wallet, giving the bartender a friendly smile.

She checked the POS and inclined her head apologetically. “Sorry, it’ll still be about ten minutes. Have a drink while you wait?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem, thanks.” Sonny shrugged out of his jacket. “Can I get a beer?” He motioned toward the tap handles. “Whatever the Finback Brewery is.”

“Archer’s Saison,” she said brightly as she poured.

“Sure, thanks.” After exchanging his credit card for the beer, he absently looked down the bar, and almost choked on his first swallow. Sitting down near the end was Rafael Barba, a glass in one hand and his Blackberry in the other. “Oh, hey – hey counselor!” 

Barba looked up, his head turning sharply. Sonny assumed he must have been particularly engrossed in whatever he was reading, as he seemed surprised. Sonny smiled and started down the bar, bringing his beer and his jacket with him, but as he got a little closer his smile faltered.

Barba looked rough.

His tie was loosened and top button undone, which in and of itself wasn’t that unusual, but he looked tired, drawn. His hair was out of place, as though he’d been running his hand through it, and while Sonny couldn’t be sure, he even looked like his eyes were a little red. 

“Hey,” he said again, this time a little softer, his brow knit with concern. “Alright, Barba? You look a little…” He waggled his hand side to side in a ‘so-so’ motion.

“Thank you for the assessment,” Barba said, words dripping with typical sarcasm. “What are you doing here? Are you having me followed?”

“Nah, just dropped off some papers at your desk and thought I’d grab dinner on my way home.” Unfazed by Barba’s derisive greeting, Sonny slid into the seat beside him. “I was hoping to say hello; I thought I’d missed you.” 

“You did.” Barba arched an eyebrow as though this was obvious.

“And yet here you are.” Sonny shot Barba a tight lipped smile. He could tell at once that Barba was drunk. He wasn’t slurring or cross-eyed, but there was something about the look in his eyes and the slightly more dramatic quality to his speech. Besides, in his couple years as a Staten Island beat cop before he made detective he’d dealt with more than his fair share of inebriates. “You have dinner?” 

Barba swallowed down the last of his drink and motioned to the bartender, who quickly produced another neat double of scotch. Sonny didn’t know anything about scotches, but it wasn’t Johnny Walker. The bottle looked expensive, just like everything else about Barba. “I’m drinking it.” He raised his drink and took a sip.

“Yeah, I see that,” Sonny replied, his brow wrinkling again. “Hey, look, counselor. I know the Briggs case was ugly. At least it wasn’t a loss, right? I feel bad about how I acted in the Sarge’s office, the case was a dog and you did the best you could with it, and I-“

“Honestly, Carisi, did you just come over here to kiss my ass? I couldn’t care less about the Briggs case.” 

“I - No, right, of course.” Sonny was taken aback. Barba could be a bit of bastard, sure, but it was usually just wit and snark. It wasn’t like him to be cruel. He had to be hurting, Sonny realized at once, and felt a rush of desire to help soothe that hurt. It was in his nature. “Sorry. Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but if I could help, or if you wanted to talk about it? Anyone will tell you I’m a great listener, my sisters are always coming to me whenever they need to talk…”

“Carisi,” Barba sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “Could you please not talk? I don’t want to talk. Could we just sit here, drink our drinks, and not talk?”

Sonny studied the other man for a long moment before slowly nodding. “Yeah, sure. Of course, whatever you want.” He picked up his beer and took a long swallow, settling his elbow on the bar.

Three beers and another scotch later, and they were still sitting side by side, Sonny’s dinner cooling in a to-go bag on the bar top. The silence had become somehow companionable, Barba no longer on his phone and occasionally glancing at Sonny, Sonny giving him small friendly smiles and nods in return. The ADA seemed to have relaxed considerably since Sonny had stopped trying to draw him out. 

Finally, Barba pushed his empty glass away from him and asked to close his tab. Sonny threw down the last swallows of his beer and told the bartender he’d like his as well. 

“How about you let me walk you home, counselor?”

“I’m capable of getting myself home, Carisi. Besides, I don’t live near here. I’m on the Upper West.”

“Well, let’s share a cab then. I’m in Washington Heights, so I’m going that way.”

“Nice neighborhood,” Barba rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I’m in Manhattan and I’m paying $1,650 for a one bedroom. May be a long train ride but at least I’ve cut bridges out of my daily commute. Besides, it’s gentrifying. I was in Highbridge before.” Sonny signed the receipt the bartender dropped off, sliding his credit card back into his wallet.

“Fine, withdrawn. Good for you, congratulations on getting out of the Bronx. Did I give you the impression I was looking for your life story?”

Sonny frowned a little. He was used to Barba’s sarcastic quips, but he was being meaner than usual. While his legal overzealousness may push the other man’s buttons, casual conversation usually didn’t draw quite so much venom. Perhaps Barba saw that his words had stung, because his face softened before Sonny could reply.

“We could share a cab.” He sounded almost apologetic. Sonny was impressed.

“Yeah. Okay, great, sounds good.” He picked up his bag of takeout as Barba signed his credit card slip. Sonny didn’t mean to be nosy, but he couldn’t help noticing that Barba tipped twenty-five percent. He also noticed how high the bar bill was, and was reassured he’d made the right decision to offer to get him home.

Sonny made quick work of hailing a cab heading uptown, and held the door open for Barba, letting him in first before sliding in beside him. “Two stops please,” he said to the driver before looking to Barba. “Where to, counselor?”

“West 76th Street between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue,” Barba said, and the cab pulled away from the curb. 

“Nice neighborhood,” Sonny said with a grin, echoing Barba’s earlier words. To his relief, the other man smirked at him. 

“It really is,” he replied in the dry way that Sonny had come to read as almost playful. 

“Yeah well, I’ll get there.” Sonny grinned, dimples popping. Seeing the other man looking a little more like himself was enough to lift Sonny’s spirits considerably. He still wanted to know what was weighting on Barba’s mind (he was reasonably certain that Barba wasn’t just a sad drunk), but he knew better than to pry. He decided to simply be pleased that in some way his company had been a comfort, or at least a distraction. “To be honest though, my place isn’t so bad. It’s clean and it’s got great light, kind of on the narrow side and it’s a fifth floor walkup, which can be a lot at the end of a long day, but it’s got these real high ceilings, real cool pre-war style, and original wood floors! Well, mostly original. Not that I spend a lot of time there, you know, mostly just passing out in my textbooks at the end of a long night, am I right?”

He looked to Barba with a grin, and was surprised to see Barba’s face was turned toward him, actually watching him and paying attention to what he was saying. The bemused expression on the other man’s face brought Sonny to a sudden loss for words. 

“Sounds charming,” Barba quipped, one eyebrow raised slightly. 

Sonny’s mouth felt dry. The surreal quality of the situation settled on him all at once. He and Barba, varying degrees of drunk, in the back of a cab on the way to Barba’s place. They’d left a bar together. It didn’t mean anything, of course it didn’t mean anything, just two colleagues sharing a cab home at the end of a long day.

Still, he felt unreasonably warm, and realized far too late that he was suddenly looking at Barba’s mouth, at the way his lips were turned up in a smirk. He felt a flutter of anxiety and turned away, guilty and exposed. These feelings, this strange attraction to the older man, always left him feeling shaken and off balance. He’d never been attracted to a man before, never considered it. Well, not really. Not seriously. Yet, in the last few months, thoughts about Rafael Barba were creeping in on him. Dreams, fantasies, interest he couldn’t deny. 

His head swam in a way he didn’t think could be attributed to the high alcohol content of the beer.

He glanced back to Barba, who was still looking at him. His head was cocked slightly to the side, eyebrows drawn almost imperceptibly together, as though he were studying something, as though Sonny were a puzzle he was trying to solve. As though he could see right through him.

Without meaning too, perhaps as a result of his nervousness, Sonny’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Barba’s eyebrows crept up toward his hairline, and Sonny flushed, turning again to look out the window. 

The drive was little more than fifteen minutes, and he felt as though Barba’s eyes were on him the whole time. 

As the car turned onto 76th, Barba leaned forward a touch toward the partition. “I’m up here on the right, number sixty.” He pulled out his wallet as the cab began to slow, but Sonny waved him off. 

“No, please, I got it, come on.” Barba seemed ready to object, but something in the earnest expression on Sonny’s face must have given him pause, because he nodded and dipped his head in gratitude.

Sonny opened his door as the cab came to a full stop, getting out even as Barba did the same. He addressed the driver. “Can you wait here a second for me?”

“Meter’s running,” the man behind the wheel said, genially enough. Sonny jogged around the cab to the sidewalk, catching up to where Barba stood, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Walking me to my door, detective?” 

“Yeah, I mean, no, I.” He stopped, feeling tongue tied and ridiculous. He didn’t even know why he had gotten out of the cab. He could feel himself turning red again. “Just wanted to make sure you got in okay.” 

It sounded weak and absurd even to him, he couldn’t imagine how insane it sounded to Barba. And to make it worse, the other man was giving him that same look that he’d had in the cab, like he was considering a riddle. Or weighing his options. It was likely less than a minute, but it felt like a year before Barba finally spoke.

“Come here.” His voice was quiet, pitched low, and Sonny felt it go through him like an electric shock.

It was embarrassing how quickly he closed the distance between himself and Barba, close enough that he could reach out and touch the other man. He didn’t, though his traitorous fingers itched to do just that.

“Come here,” Barba repeated, crooking a finger to beckon Sonny closer. This time his voice went straight to Sonny’s dick. He could already feel himself growing hard as he took another step toward Barba, too close now. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up. Despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, he could feel his breathing growing shallower. He was light headed, the world around him dreamlike.

“Counselor?” he asked, a note of confusion in his voice, and a quiver he wished he could deny.

Barba didn’t answer, at least, not by speaking. Instead, he reached out, his knuckles grazing along his cheekbone. Sonny couldn’t believe the small, desperate exhalation that left his throat the moment Barba touched him. Something sparked and then darkened in the other man’s eyes as Sonny made that sound. Barba’s hand brushed the side of his neck and then curled around the back, fingers carding through the short hair there as he pulled Sonny down to meet his mouth.

It was a softer kiss than Sonny had expected, at least at first. Barba’s lips grazed over his, once, twice, almost as though he were waiting to see how Sonny would respond. Whatever noise he made, the low keening in his throat, the shuddering of his breath against Barba’s mouth, seemed to be enough of an answer, for then Barba truly began to kiss him. He kissed Sonny’s lower lip, his upper lip, and Sonny felt a dizziness so intense rushing over him that he worried he might black out.

And perhaps he did black out, because he didn’t remember closing the distance between them so his body was pressed up tight against Barba’s. He didn’t remember putting his hands on the other man’s back, sliding them down to his waist, pulling him close. He didn’t remember opening his mouth, but it was open, and he was kissing Barba back with an urgency he hadn’t felt since he was fifteen with Julia Toscano on the couch in his parent’s rec room.

It was so different than any kiss he had ever known. Barba wasn’t soft or yielding; he took control and drew kisses from Sonny’s mouth, as though he reveled at the taste of him, even as Sonny felt like he was getting drunk from the smoky sweet taste of scotch on Barba’s tongue. There was a scrape of stubble where their faces touched, the lingering scent of expensive cologne, and the hard press of the other man’s body against his. 

Sonny ground his hips forward against Barba, feeling out of control of his own body, and broke the kiss with a moan. It was torture to do it. He stared down at Barba, still pressed against him. Sonny wondered if he looked as wild-eyed and panicked as he felt.

“I’m not gay,” he gasped, unsure if he was telling Barba or trying to convince himself. Barba’s lips were swollen and Sonny almost leaned down to capture them again.

“Of course you’re not,” Barba said, practically murmured, his eyes flicking from Sonny’s eyes to his lips, then back again. “But you still want me, don’t you?”

A whine escaped Sonny, plaintive and desperate, and he surged forward to meet Barba’s mouth again. 

Barba’s hands were on Sonny’s face, holding him just where he wanted him. The way he touched him made his mouth open, his eyes close. He moaned helplessly as Barba’s thumbs stroked down across his jaw, gently but firmly keeping him in place. Sonny trembled under the other man’s touch, and when Barba began to lick into his mouth, he thought his knees were going to buckle. Barba’s clever tongue seemed intent on tasting every part of him, and Sonny couldn’t stop the way he rutted against the shorter man, hands gripping his solid hips. 

He could come just from this, he realized, whimpering into Barba’s mouth with shame. He would come from this if they didn’t stop, right here in the street on the Upper West Side.

It was the cab’s horn that broke the spell. The driver honked twice, two sharp blasts that brought Sonny back to reality long enough for him to disentangle himself from Barba. He stared at him, could see plainly that he was just as hard as he was. Lust and panic were at war within him, and he practically fell over the curb bas he backed into the street.

“I have to go,” he panted. “I’m sorry, I… I have to, you know, I…” 

Barba stared at him for what seemed like eternity before he nodded, slowly, finally, the permission that Sonny needed. His expression was impossible to read, and as Sonny clambered into the back seat of the cab, he said “I’ll see you later, counselor, alright?”

Sonny gave his address and the cab pulled away. 

He wondered if the shame he felt was for what he had just done with Barba, or for running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's "Whatever Happened To Our Rock and Roll".  
> This song was featured in the film 9 Songs.
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (I don't feel previous canonical relationships with women preclude same sex attraction, as same sex interests have not been explicitly excluded.)


	4. i am willing (lay your hands on me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four Prompt: First Time.  
> S16, E17 - Parole Violations.
> 
> Thanks so much to the lovely and supportive greygerbil who beta'd this chapter! Y'all should go read her fic "Reconnecting" with Rafael and Eddie Garcia. Totally great.

Rafael had been through terrible trial prep during his time as a prosecutor. He had dealt with people who were hostile, reluctant, scared, confused, and just plain stupid. This, however, was the most awkward experience he’d ever had preparing a witness. It was already a difficult case. He had no doubt that Donna Marshall was guilty, but even with the evidence they had against her, convincing a jury that a woman had raped two men was going to be near impossible. Even worse that those men were ex-cons and she a parole officer. If anyone could win this case it was him, but that didn't mean it would be easy. 

Harder, if one of his witnesses seemed guilty and secretive and kept fumbling his answers. 

It was the first time he had been alone with Carisi since his drunken mistake. 

They had spoken when he had come with Benson to his office, but save a few overly long moments of eye contact, things had seemed normal. Rafael had been impressed by the detective’s ability to maintain his composure. He was fairly certain Benson hadn’t noticed anything off between them. It was a different story now, as Carisi shifted in his chair and stared too long at Rafael after another miserable attempt at answering a fairly simple question. 

Rafael dropped his yellow legal pad on the desk with a sigh, tossing his pen on top of it. The heavy sound of its landing caused Carisi to look up from his hands. “We have to talk about this.” 

Carisi stilled, the endless tapping of his foot finally coming to a halt. He reminded Rafael of a cornered animal frozen as it tried to spot a path of escape. It was clear he knew at once to what Rafael was referring. “Hey no, I’m focused. Sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” Rafael said, and meant it. He made an effort to keep any bite from his voice. “That night. What I did was unprofessional. I was drunk, which doesn’t excuse my behavior.” He wondered if the death of his abuela excused it. That he had been not just drunk, but grieving and guilty and more desperate for comfort than he’d be willing to admit. He wasn’t going to find out. “We're going to be working together, not just on this case but in the future, and we need to move past this." 

“What if I didn’t want to move past it?” 

Carisi’s response wasn’t what Rafael had expected to hear. He expected the younger man to be relieved to get the elephant out of the room, to grab at the chance to blame the alcohol and to reaffirm his heterosexuality. To pretend the whole thing had never happened. Hearing him say otherwise made Rafael feel as though the room were ten degrees warmer. 

“I had it on good authority that you’re not gay,” Rafael reminded him, proud of himself for maintaining eye contact and not looking at Carisi’s mouth. 

“Are you?” Carisi shot back. 

Rafael's first instinct was to tell Carisi it was none of his business, but he supposed that ship had sailed when he kissed him. He gave a half shrug. “Close enough to make no difference. But that isn’t the point.” 

Carisi was staring at him as though he expected him to elaborate. When he didn’t, the younger man leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Alright. Yeah, no, I’m not gay. At least, I don’t know, I never thought about men like this before. But I am now, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last couple weeks, since… Look, counselor, you weren’t wrong. What you said that night. I’m not gay, but I still wanted… still want you. And the way you were kissing me, drunk or not, I think you might want me too. I think that’s what we gotta deal with if we’re gonna keep working together, am I right?” 

"Rarely." It was second nature, even when he meant to be nice. Thankfully Carisi only rolled his eyes, seeming to take it in stride. In other circumstances, Rafael might have privately appreciated how easily his barbs rolled off Carisi; it lent an air of fun to the banter that wouldn't admit aloud to enjoying. He sighed, committing to keep the sarcasm out of his mouth for five minutes. "But maybe this time, to a degree." 

He leaned forward, hands folding on his desk, his tone apologetic and sincere. “I'm flattered, Carisi, I really am. But work isn’t the place to be exploring your newfound bisexual proclivities.” That Carisi flinched at the term ‘bisexual’ only confirmed Rafael's feeling that he was doing the right thing. "And I'm past the point in my life where I'm comfortable acting as a subject in someone's experimentation.” 

Carisi looked a little hurt, though he set his jaw with fierce determination. The combination bizarrely reminded Rafael of a puppy. “I’m not trying to _experiment_ on you, counselor. I didn’t just think of this that night when I had a beer in my hand, you know? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. About you. And why would you have kissed me like that if you hadn’t been thinking about me too?” 

Rafaal scrubbed a hand down over his face with a sigh, closing his eyes. “Because I was drunk, and you were there, and attractive,” he lied. 

And it was a lie, but one used to tell a greater truth. 

That Rafael was attracted to Carisi didn’t change the fact that everything about this was a terrible idea. He didn’t for a moment believe the detective had considered all that being involved with another man would mean, and nothing about the idea of someone struggling with their sexuality appealed to Rafael. Nor did all the drama and complication that came from sleeping with colleagues. In the best circumstances that was a messy prospect, and these were far from that. It would call into question their objectivity; they wouldn’t be able to come near each other’s cases and disclosures would have to be made to their superiors. He was absolutely unwilling to discuss his private life with the D.A., and he couldn’t picture Carisi trying to explain this situation to Benson. On top of all that, they were profoundly incompatible. A physical interest, however strong it may be, was hardly worth it to deal with all the rest. 

And Rafael maintained that was all he felt. 

He was certain that Carisi would see all of these things as mere obstacles to be overcome if he believed that Rafael was attracted to him, interested in any way more than passing. He wasn’t a complete bastard. He didn’t want to hurt the other man – but he would, if it was the most efficient way to nip this in the bud. The wounded look on the open book of Carisi’s face still made him feel like a prick. 

“I am sorry, Carisi.” His voice was gentle, the way he spoke to victims who needed reassurance, though he was firm enough to make it clear that he would accept no argument. “As I said, what happened was inappropriate. Too many long hours, and too much to drink. I apologize if I made you think otherwise. But, I need to know that we can put this behind us and do our jobs. Can you do that, detective?” 

Carisi looked as though Rafael had slapped him. He felt a sudden and perverse desire to go to him, to kiss the dejected look from his face. 

“Yeah,” Carisi finally answered, a stiffness in his voice that didn’t hide his hurt. “Yeah, of course.” Suddenly he was on his feet, grabbing at his coat from where it was draped over the back of a chair. “Look, it’s late, and I don’t feel like we’re gonna get anywhere tonight. You think we’re good, or I could come back, we could prep more tomorrow? I know what to say on the stand.” 

“That’s fine,” he said, gently. It would be cruel to make him stay.

\----------- 

Carisi’s lean body pressed up against him overwhelmed Rafael’s senses, not to mention his good sense. The detective’s hands were on his ass, holding him tight while he ground against him.

“I can’t get you outta my head, counselor,” Carisi breathed against his mouth. “I tried, you know, but I can’t. I know you said we had to forget about it, and I would’ve if I could figure out how…” 

“Carisi, shh. Stop talking.” Not that there wasn’t something strangely charming about the younger man’s flattering babbling, but Rafael could think of better things he could do with his mouth. He wanted to taste the swollen lips that had been so distracting to him over the past weeks. 

His kiss was sweet and spicy; Rafael thought he must have been chewing cinnamon gum on his way to the courthouse. Sweet suited him. He pushed his fingers through his hair, taking perverse pleasure in mussing the carefully coifed style. He caught Carisi’s lower lip lightly between his teeth and gave a gentle tug. The way the younger man groaned and thrust his hips made him pull Carisi closer, deepening the kiss and licking into that sweet mouth. 

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He had been firm in his convictions, and still knew every reason this was a terrible idea. He prized himself on always being able to maintain control of a situation, being able to work every angle. He wasn’t a man who got swept up by passions; he liked to go into every encounter knowing how it would end before it began. Carisi had come to his office late that evening to thank him for what he’d done for his sister and Tommy Sullivan – this had not been the outcome he had planned. 

He hadn’t intended to offer the detective a drink, but it was only fair as he had been having one. What was more damning was the way he had closed the blinds that would have allowed them to be seen from the outer office, if anyone other than him had been there that late. That was the moment that, later, would make it impossible to claim this hadn’t been premeditated. 

He swore it hadn’t, even as the edge of his desk pressed against the back of his thighs and Carisi’s hands left his ass to twist in his suspenders. 

It wasn’t until they were pushed down off his shoulders that Rafael tore his mouth away from the other man’s to trail warm wet kisses along his jaw until his lips could ghost against his ear. “What do you want?” he coaxed, even as he moved his arms to let the suspenders fall. 

Carisi’s breath was hot and ragged against his neck as he gripped Rafael’s hips, seeming suddenly uncertain what to do with his hands. “You,” he stammered, and then again with more conviction. “I want you.” He kissed Rafael’s neck and sucked at his pulse point. 

Rafael hissed in pleasure and grabbed his own tie, tugging the knot undone and pulling it free from his collar to fall forgotten on the desk beside him. His free hand stroked the other man’s back encouragingly. “What do you want me to do? What do you want to do to me?” He teased the shell of Carisi’s ear with his tongue, nipped at the lobe, and relished the breathy sounds it elicited from him. “Do you even know?” 

Carisi rocked his hips forward and Rafael slotted his thigh between his legs. The younger man gasped at the contact, his head rolling back before he steadied himself, gaining just enough distance to fix his eyes on Rafael. And didn’t he look pretty, his lips bee-stung and his cheeks so flushed. “Touch me?” he asked, almost as though he were afraid he might be wrong. “Please?” 

Another time Rafael might have drawn out his teasing, but he was impressed the detective had managed that much. And if he were honest with himself, he didn’t want to wait. He’d wanted to touch Carisi for too long to put it off now. He stroked his hand along the other man’s side and over his hip, keeping his touch feather-light and his eyes locked on Carisi’s. 

“You want me to touch you?” he murmured, and then he did. He stroked Carisi once where he strained against his trousers, and then again more firmly, taking in the shape and size of him. His own cock ached, desperate for similar treatment. “Like this?” 

“Fuck, yes, please!” Carisi groaned, his eyes fluttering briefly before he swayed forward, crushing his mouth to his again. Rafael couldn’t help but moan into the kiss. He stroked Carisi through his clothing, long slow movements of his hand, savoring the way he rocked against his hand, how he was beginning to feel the hints of dampness from his precome. 

“Please,” Carisi gasped again, after only a few moments. His lips barely left Rafael’s, only parting for the panted plea he couldn’t completely articulate. “Please.” 

Rafael knew what he wanted, but that didn’t stop him from asking again as he ceased stroking to deftly unbuckle Carisi’s belt and undo the button below. “Please?” he echoed, curling his tongue up against Carisi’s open mouth in a way he had learned made the other man tremble with desire. “Is this what you want?” He slowly began to tug down the zip. 

“Yes, please, yeah,” Carisi was fast to answer, one of his hands gripping Rafael’s shoulder. “Please, counselor, touch me, c’mon…” 

Rafael wasn’t about to deny him. He skimmed his fingers along Carisi’s hips before hooking them in his waistband, pushing his pants and briefs low enough that his cock - long, flushed and dripping - could spring free. The sight of him filled Rafael with the urge to drop to his knees to taste him, though he resisted and instead gave Carisi what he had requested. He brushed his fingers over him, smearing them with precome and making Carisi’s hips jerk. He couldn’t tease too long; he was only human, and Carisi looked too good to resist. 

He wrapped his fingers around him, grip loose, and began to work him with slow, lazy tugs. The sounds Carisi made were sinful, low and wanton as he thrust shallowly into Rafael’s fist. He kept his pace slow, even as their kisses began to be peppered with the younger man’s pleading whimpers. He gripped him a little tighter and swiped his thumb over the leaking head. 

“God, fuck, Barba!’ Rafael was glad there was no one in the outer offices to hear them. Carisi was loud, and Rafael wanted to hear it. The detective scrabbled at Rafael’s pants, undoing the double button with surprising grace. “Please,” he begged again, but Rafael quieted him with a gentle kiss. 

“Shh,” he soothed, slowing his firm strokes even more. “It's okay. Estas bien. Sólo respira y dejame hacerlo por ti, okay?” He didn’t know if it was his gentle touch, the murmured Spanish, or the way he whispered soft kisses over Carisi’s mouth, but he stilled, swayed, and allowed himself to be kissed. He moved his hands to Rafael’s shoulders even as Rafael briefly stopped stroking him. He kept kissing Carisi tenderly compared to their previous fervor even as Rafael's clever fingers made quick work of the buttons on his own shirt, pushing it back off his shoulders. He had enough presence of mind to know it was a nice shirt, and he didn't want to get come on it. He didn't remove his undershirt, but did push his suit pants and boxers down his thighs, huffing softly into Carisi's mouth as his own heavy, swollen prick was released from the confines of his clothes. 

"Is this okay?" He asked as he caressed Carisi once again. He shifted his hips forward, the desk behind him helping to make up a little of the height difference between them as palmed their dicks together and began to stroke them. 

The moan that tore itself from Carisi's throat sounded like music to Rafael. The younger man trembled and thrust himself shallowly into Rafael's hand. Rafael couldn't blame him, the slow drag of their cocks together, hot and hard and slick with precome, was enough to make Rafael's head spin. 

It had been too long. 

Carisi clutched at him, one arm around his back and the other hand gripping tight on his hip. "Oh god," he shuddered, his head dropping forward to rest his forehead on Rafael's shoulder. Each hot exhalation was punctuated by a breathy whimper and the occasional wet kiss. 

"Oh god," the younger man gasped again, as Rafael's grip tightened and he began to twist his wrist to squeeze their heads together. His own breath was getting shallow. This felt too good. "God, Barba, counselor... that... fuck..." His words were so soft they were little more than whispers, each one shaking and thick with his Staten Island accent. 

"Shh," he soothed, the hand still on the younger man's back caressing him gently, comfortingly. "It's alright. You're doing so good." Carisi gasped and gripped him tighter, his hips stuttering in the rhythm of their thrusts. He pushed his face into the side of Rafael's neck. 

"Please, don't stop, don't stop," Carisi begged against his throat, and Rafael sped up the movement of his hand, thumb swiping over their heads and making his own hips surge. This wasn't going to last long, not with the sounds Carisi was making, the way he mouthed at Barba's neck. 

"I won't," he reassured, his own body rocking forward to thrust into the tight heat of his fist, to slide against the underside of Carisi's flushed and dripping prick. The younger man's thrust complimented Rafael's, and he sighed in pleasure. "That's right, that's good, Carisi, just like that." 

Carisi whimpered and picked up his head, shifting just far enough to be able to look at Rafael. His pupils were so blown that the blue in his eyes was nearly covered. "Can you call me Sonny? Please?" 

It was a ridiculous name, but it was hardly the time to bring it up. Rafael pulled the other man down into a kiss and sucked at his lower lip, picking up the speed of his hand between them. "Es bueno eso, Sonny?" It felt less awkward on his tongue than he had imagined. He was instantly rewarded for his kindness, as Carisi moaned loud and low and gripped Rafael near hard enough to bruise, coming hot and hard onto his hand and stomach. 

"Fuck, yes," Rafael breathed, jerking them both hard together, milking the last of Carisi's orgasm even as he chased his own. He knew he ran the risk of pushing the other man into over-sensitivity, but he didn't seem to mind. He pushed his hand up into Rafael's hair, pulling him into a searing kiss even as he panted for breath against his mouth. 

"Wanna see you come, counselor," he gasped, and Rafael did, thrusting his hips arrhythmically as he ruined the front of Carisi's shirt. He doubted how much the other man could see, as he held Carisi close to him, sucking kisses from his mouth like air. 

Carisi was still holding him and kissing lazily at his throat even after they came down, their breathing and heart rates slowly returning to normal. He was the first one to speak, and Rafael was sure he could hear a grin in his voice. He didn't even seem bothered that Rafael wiped his hand on Carisi's already spattered shirt before working to right his own trousers. "That was _awesome_." 

Yes. Sonny Carisi was absolutely a problem, and that problem was only getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from Peter Gabriel's "Lay Your Hands On Me".
> 
> I am ready (lay your hands on me)  
> I am willing (lay your hands on me)  
> I believe (lay your hands on me)  
> Oh, I believe.
> 
> Lots of yummy percussion.
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (In this chapter, Barba says he's 'close enough (to gay) to make no difference'. I know he has had relationships with women in the past, which I don't feel that precludes him from ambiguously choosing to identify as gay in his forties.)


	5. I'll do it so good I swear I'll drink every ounce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Five Prompt: Blow Job.  
> S16, E18 - Devastating Story.
> 
> I wrote this chapter on a high dose of xanax and ambien. It's not only not been beta'd, I didn't even reread it. I will probably end up editing this but I am posting it now because. You know. Xanax. Ambien. Porn.

Sonny couldn't get enough of the sight of Rafael Barba spread out naked in front of him. 

There had been two other rushed encounters since the first night in Barba's office, but neither time had they been fully stripped down or actually in a bed, as they were now. Alright, so Sonny was still wearing his briefs, but Barba's boxers had been tossed somewhere on the floor, which is right where Sonny wanted them. 

A part of him had worried that when he finally got Barba out of his clothes, when he was faced with the undeniable maleness of him, that he might panic. He still felt a creeping sort of vertigo when he thought too hard about his attraction to the other man, when he looked too directly at what was happening between them. He wasn't homophobic, no way, and no one could say he was. It was just thinking of himself as gay, or bisexual, or whatever, it just didn't fit. There had been a moment when Barba had been pressed up against him and he could feel the flatness of his chest and the way his body hair rubbed against his own that he felt a dizzying wave of dissonance. 

It had passed, chased away by desire when Barba had kissed him and pulled him out onto the bed. Lying there now, all doubt was gone. His hands were everywhere, wanting to take in every inch of the other man. He was intoxicated by the softness of him, the curve of his stomach, the give of his solid hips, the round handfuls of his ample ass. Barba flexed those hips up, and Sonny's attention was drawn back to his thick, long prick, curving upward to lay heavy against his stomach. Sonny had been stroking it before he had become distracted again by the rest of Barba's body. 

"Did you forget what you were doing, detective?" Barba's green eyes were heavily lidded and his face was flushed, a smirk curling at his kiss-swollen lips. Sonny was struck by how pretty he looked, but had the rare good sense not to say it out loud. He somehow doubted that Barba would appreciate it. 

"Just taking my time, counselor," he grinned, leaning down to brush his lips to the other man's, even as he curled his long fingers around Barba's dick again. He jerked him with slow, idle strokes, slicked by precome, the evidence of how worked up he'd gotten him before his hands started to wander. "We don't have anywhere to be for once, got you in a bed and everything, don't want to rush." 

"Tease," Barba complained, but there was no venom in it. He rolled his hips, fucking up lazily into Sonny's fist, making the other man groan against his mouth. 

"Nice, that's hot," Sonny exclaimed guilessly, and was grateful that Barba rewarded him by thrusting upward again as opposed to rolling his eyes. He supposed it was harder for Barba to be an ass to him when he was in the middle of jerking him off. 

Barba curled one hand around Sonny's bicep, squeezing the arm he was using to stroke him. "Come on, faster," he said, even as he caught Sonny's mouth in a kiss. When he didn't comply within a few strokes, Barba complained, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice. "Faster, I said. Tighter." 

Much as he would have liked to draw it out, the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint. He crowded in closer over Barba, grinding himself down against the other man's hip and cursing the cotton of his briefs for still being between them. He tightened his grip, speeding up his strokes, twisting his hand over the head to milk beads of precome from him. 

Barba sighed, groaned. "Fuck, yes, that's right, like that." His eyes closed, and Sonny leaned down to kiss him, eager to taste his mouth. He liked to be kissing his partners when they came, to taste their pleasure and feel them cry out into his mouth. 

It had never really struck him how much shorter Barba was until he was stretched out under him naked. The way he carried himself, all ego and swagger, made him seem like a giant. Sonny found something erotic about the way he was now, fit up close against him, and pinned under his body. He tried not to think about what that meant, and instead devoted himself to getting Barba off. It wasn't long before he succeeded – Sonny always did well with clear instructions. He pumped his fist with the fast pace Barba requested, and it wasn't long before his hips stuttered and he moaned into Sonny's mouth, streaking his stomach with ribbons of come. 

Sonny drew out the long, hungry kiss as long as he could while Barba was coming down. Before too long, however, the other man pushed him back, dropping heavily back against his ridiculously high thread-count sheets. 

"Get off of me, Carisi," Barba said, without bite. His chest rose and fell heavily as he caught his breath, stretching out and sighing with satisfaction. 

Sonny grinned, unphased by Barba's grumbling. He was content to lie on his side, propped up on his elbow with his chin resting on his fist, letting the other man bask and come down in peace. Well, mostly in peace. 

"Thought we agreed you were gonna call me Sonny when we're in bed," he smiled. 

"This is the first time we've been in bed." Barba reached for his nightstand and grabbed a few tissues, cleaning up his stomach. Sonny was a little sorry to see it go; he liked the physical evidence of the pleasure he'd given the other man. 

"Alright, alright. Fooling around, then." Sonny took the moment to look around Barba's bedroom. This was the first time he'd been in it. The last time they'd been together they'd been in Barba's apartment, but hadn't made it any farther than the sofa in his living room. While he hadn't really spent any time imagining Barba's bedroom, if he had he was pretty sure it would have looked like this. Queen sized bed, plenty of room to stretch out and have company, but maybe not as big as you'd want for two people all the time. Expensive sheets and fat, firm pillows, a couple of pieces of art on the wall, and nice curtains that made him think there may have been a decorator involved. Double sliding doors suggested a big closet, which made sense considering his extensive collection of suits, with a full length mirror mounted on the back. It was easy to picture Barba standing there every morning, doing up his tie. 

Much as he was interested in looking around and taking in the details of Barba's home, his body was more interested in the man himself. Sonny was soon pressing up near him again. "You got me so turned on," he said, nuzzling against Barba's throat even as he rocked his hips up against him, as though to show him just how much. He sighed in pleasure when Barba stroked a hand along his body, hooking his thumb in the waistband of his briefs. 

"Get rid of these," Barba said, rolling up onto his side. He leaned in a sucked a kiss from Sonny's mouth, catching his lower lip between his teeth. Sonny's breath hitched, and he moaned unashamedly as he scrambled to divest himself of his underpants. He kicked them away with such vigor he doubted he'd be able to find them later. 

It occurred to him that he might have seemed cooler if he wasn’t so obviously eager for Barba to get his hands on him, though he supposed that ship had sailed long ago. He’d never had a talent for hiding his feelings and no one had ever described him as coy. He made no effort to change that now, rocking his hips up as Barba pushed him onto his back and settled in half over him. The older man was kissing him slowly, languidly, stroking one hand lazily up and down Sonny’s chest and stomach. The feather-light touches made Sonny shiver. 

“Sensitive,” Barba mocked gently, as his mouth trailed from Sonny’s, kissing a hot, wet trail along his neck and shoulder. Barba’s fingers captured one of his nipples and Sonny took in a sharp breath. He was sensitive, and not embarrassed by it. Sex was supposed to feel good and he enjoyed it enthusiastically, the same way he did anything else. 

“Yeah, that’s a good thing though, right?” Anything else he was going to say was cut off by a groan when Barba’s mouth replaced his fingers, nipping teeth and soothing tongue. 

It wasn’t until Barba was kissing low on the flat plane of his stomach that he realized what was happening. Breath coming quick, he pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down to where Barba’s hands were heavy on his thighs, spreading them to make room for himself to settle between them. He thought again how pretty the other man looked, his eyes closed and expression soft, pink tongue flicking out to taste his skin. 

The idea of Rafael Barba going down on him caused another wave of cognitive dissonance; this didn't fit with his image of the pressed and composed ADA, his clever tongue far more at home delivering cutting remarks than giving pleasure. Yet he could feel the other man's breath hot on his prick, and Sonny swallowed thickly. 

"Hey, you - you don't gotta..." He couldn't quite finish the thought. Just the sight of Barba between his legs was enough to leave him tongue tied. 

"'Have to'?" Rafael rolled his eyes before dipping his head. He licked languidly along Sonny's balls, his tongue wet and flat against them and up, along the underside of his cock, until he rolled his tongue around the head. 

Sonny moaned, loud and low, dropping back down heavily against the bed. "Oh, fuck, Barba, god..." He raised his hands, reaching to touch the other man, to stroke his face and hair, but he hesitated and dropped them to his sides instead, fisting those expensive sheets. 

Barba's only response was an encouraging hum that Sonny felt as much as he heard. Barba's mouth was hot, and wet, and he had only just begun. Rather than stroking him with his hand while he licked and sucked at his head, Barba took Sonny in smoothly and deeper than he had expected. Sonny groaned and twisted his hands in the sheets as he felt the hot pressure of Barba's throat around him. He could feel the other man's nose pushing up against his abdomen. 

"Fuck, Jesus Mary and Joseph, Barba, Barba," he babbled, but he couldn't control the stream of words pouring out of his mouth. There was a moment when the other man's cheeks hollowed with the gentle suction of his mouth, and then he _swallowed_ , and Sonny thought for a moment that he might pass out. In a smooth, slow motion, Barba pulled almost all the way off and at once sunk straight back down again. 

Sonny had a flash of realization that Barba must be very experienced, to be this good. He pushed the thought away, not prepared to or capable of dwelling on such a thing at the moment. Not with the way Barba was making him feel. He pulled off again with an obscene wet sound, licking and sucking hungrily up long his length. 

Sonny pushed up on one elbow again, wanting to see, needing to see. The desperate sound that escaped him at the sight came completely unbidden. 

Barba's mouth and chin glistened with spit and precome, the look of hunger and naked want on his face like nothing Sonny had ever seen on him. He swallowed Sonny down again, deep into his throat, and Sonny could no longer stop himself from tangling a hand in the other man's hair. It was everything he could do to keep his hips from thrusting up, into that impossibly tight, wet heat. 

"That feels, god, fuck, counselor, that feels so fucking good, I never, no one ever, Jesus..." It was blasphemy, not prayer, but it felt somehow holy all the same. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt anything so rapturous as Barba's mouth. 

Sonny had plenty of blow jobs in his life. He'd always been good looking, girls had always liked him, but none of them had ever felt like this. None had gone in with such enthusiasm, swallowed him down so zealously, had never made such breathy, wanton sounds, as though he were enjoying this just as much as Sonny. 

Barba reached up and took the hand that was laced through his hair, pulling it down along the side of his face. The slide of Sonny's fingers through the slickness there, the mess Barba was willing to make of himself, made Sonny's hips twitch. It was nothing, however, compared to what he felt when Barba pulled his hand down to his neck. He could feel the swollen bulge of himself, thick and hard and deep in Barba's throat. 

Barba opened his eyes, dark pupils almost entirely obscuring the green, and locked eyes with Sonny as his cheeks hollowed and he swallowed. 

Sonny cried out as he came, unintelligible and hoarse, thrusting up hard against the other man's face in spite of his best efforts to control himself. The pleasure was so intense, so all consuming, it tore through his entire body. His hand gripped Barba's hair as the older man hungrily swallowed down his release. 

Sonny didn't know when Barba moved away from him. He didn't know when they had pulled apart, when he had started to come back to himself. Barba was sitting on the edge of the bed, taking a long drink from a bottle of water, raking a hand back through his hair to right it. 

"Barba," Sonny said, surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded. He must have been shouting louder than he thought. He reached out, trailing his fingers over the other man's back. He wanted to pull him back close, to curl against him, but even after what they had just done he knew Barba would find that too intimate; more than he was willing to give. 

Barba looked over his shoulder in response to the touch, and offered the bottle. Sonny was touched by the generosity, trying to ignore how pathetic it was to be moved by such a simple thing. 

"Thanks," he said, rolling weakly onto his side to drink deeply, before handing Barba his bottle back. "That was amazing. Awesome. I mean it, I never felt anything that good, it's never been that good before." He knew his cheeks were flushed, and they only grew pinker as Barba smirked, his eyes sweeping over Sonny's naked, lanky form. 

Whatever the older man was going to say was cut off by the buzz of his blackberry vibrating on the nightstand. Sonny's face fell when Barba picked it up. 

"I have to take this," he said, standing and taking a few businesslike strides across the room as he answered. He could have been in his office on any normal day, if he weren't completely naked, his hair sex-mussed, his round soft ass bare for Sonny to admire. 

"Cutter, what do you need?" It wasn't the friendliest greeting, but Sonny supposed that made sense. It wasn't exactly a good time. "America's Worst Crimes? What would possibly make you think that's how I spend my Sunday evenings?" Each time Barba paused, his frown deepened. "Well, good for Chirlane McCray, but I fail to see what that has to do with-... the DA as well?" 

Sonny pulled himself up into a sitting position, still feeling boneless and blissed out from Barba's ministrations. He knew from the other man's tone of voice that their evening was over, however. Even as Sonny hunted around for his hastily discarded clothing, Barba was stepping into a clean pair of boxer shorts and pulling a crisply folded white t-shirt from a drawer. 

His briefs, jeans, and socks were uncovered quickly enough, but his henley was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to recall pulling it off on his way to the bedroom and went quietly into the hall, not wanting EADA Cutter to hear him creeping around. Barba was talking again. 

"Am I the only person in the DA's office who doesn't spend their evenings watching sensationalized true crime shows? Are we going to be taking on the prosecution of Adnan Syed next? What? No, of course I know he's in Baltimore, I-..." There was a pause, and then a sigh, and the sound of Barba coming into the living room even as Sonny pulled on his shirt. 

"Yes, I'll turn it on. Yes, you can tell the DA I'm watching. Alright." Barba had managed to get into his t-shirt while on the phone, and went about turning on his television as Sonny sat at his kitchen table, lacing up his sneakers. 

On the TV, a reporter was talking to a woman in silhouette. _"...viciously gang-raped for hours. Her anguished cries for help went unanswered."_ This caught Sonny's attention, and he walked over to stand beside Barba. The program cut from a tasteless reenactment back to the girl hidden in shadow. 

_"I could tell I wasn't even human to them."_

_"They took turns raping you."_ The reporter's voice was gentle, the way they talked to hesitant vics sometimes, but something about it struck Sonny as a little too saccharine, a little too show business. He frowned at the TV, and saw Barba was frowning also. 

_"Yes."_

_"Sodomizing you."_

_"Yes. When they were done, they... they..."_ The girl in shadow stumbled, choked on her words. 

_"I know this is difficult. What happened next, when they were done?"_

_"They called me a whore. They called me a slut. They shoved me out of the door like I was garbage."_

"What a friggin' nightmare," Sonny interjected, gesturing toward the TV. "Why isn't she in our precinct instead of on TV? She from Manhattan?" 

"This was at Hudson," Barba replied, motioning for him to be quiet. Sonny assumed that Cutter had told him.

 _"Did you call the police or campus security?"_ The reporter was addressing the anonymous girl once more. 

_"When I was up to it, I went to the school. They asked me if I had been drinking, if anyone could corroborate. They made me feel like I'd made a bad decision that night, and it was my fault."_

_"But for Jane, her ordeal had only just begun. More from this nightmare on campus when we return."_

A dramatic logo panned over the screen before it went to a commercial. 

"If she took all this on TV before she went to the police, it's really gonna hurt her at trial, am I right counselor?" 

"Maybe this once, but I wouldn't get used to it. I suspect you'll be hearing a lot about this case tomorrow. You might want to go home and read up before we're officially dragged in." 

"Roger that," Sonny said softly. He was perceptive enough to know he was being dismissed on two counts. Not that he had expected to stay the night, not really, but a part of him had hoped Barba might want to touch, to linger, to kiss a while before they parted ways. No such luck, it would seem, as Barba was already opening his laptop and spreading out papers at his dining room table, well within eye-shot of the show when it returned. 

"I had a nice time," Sonny ventured, when he was almost to the door. "It was really great. We could do it again soon, yeah? Get together, I mean." 

Barba looked at him again with that same gaze that was beginning to make him think that Barba could see right through him, all his dark secrets, such as they were. "Of course," Barba said at last, a ghost of a smile playing over his lips. That smile, that something just a little more than a smirk, but still oh-so in control, made Sonny's heart beat faster. 

"I'll text you." 

"Yeah, great." Sonny faught to keep the pink from his cheeks. "I better to get to work on this, huh? I'll see you soon – tomorrow probably, with this case. And thanks, you know, for the heads up." 

"No hay de que," Barba answered casually, turning back toward the television, pen in hand. Sonny wanted to go to him, to kiss him goodbye, but managed to restrain the impulse. 

"Muchas gracias," he said, the Staten Island accent still so thick on his Spanish that for a moment Sonny thought Barba might laugh. 

"Goodnight, Carisi." 

The click of Barba's door left him alone in the hall, and he slumped briefly back against the wall. "What am I doing, Father?" He scrubbed his hand over his face and started to the squad room. If he was going to get started on the case, he might as well get started tonight. He still wished he had kissed Barba goodbye. 

He spent most of his night staring at his computer screen, and thinking about Rafael Barba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from Prince's "If I Was Your Girlfriend".  
> Prince was a little ball of sex. RIP.
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (In chapter four, Barba says he's 'close enough (to gay) to make no difference'. I know he has had relationships with women in the past, which I don't feel that precludes him from ambiguously choosing to identify as gay in his forties.)


	6. patience on my neck like a cold cold knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six Prompt: Coming in Clothes.  
> S16, E19 - Granting Immunity.
> 
> Unbeta'd and completely unedited.

"Nine teenagers alone in a $10 million loft in Tribeca. What could possibly go wrong?" Rafael wanted an Excedrin. Looking at the photos of half-naked private school kids tacked up on the corkboard in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of competition at SVU to bring him the most ambiguous mess they could find. 

"Well, they got drunk and high. Stripped down and had an oral sex competition. They used different shades of lipstick -" Carisi answered Rafael's hyperbolic question so literally that the lawyer couldn't help but wince, gesturing for him to stop. 

"I-I get it." He didn't need the mental image. This sort of thing was supposed to be an urban myth, though apparently no one had told these kids. It would be hard to believe if the events weren't so painstakingly documented. Teenagers. "No teachers?" Carisi shook his head no, and Rafael glanced back to where Rollins sat perched on the edge of the conference table. "They're all minors?" 

"Ranging in age from 14 to 16. No one's claiming coercion." Rollins answered. Rafael thought she looked almost as unhappy with this case as he felt. He still wasn't ready to rule out that she was part of a conspiracy to torment him. 

"Since no minor engaged in sexual activity with anybody over 18, I don't see statutory." Rafael blinked at Carisi. It was so obvious he couldn't fathom why he'd bothered to point it out. 

"You don't? Not your call. But you're right." He couldn't resist the jab, just to watch a flicker of uncertainty pass over Carisi's face to be followed by an eye roll and a sigh. Only he didn't get it. Carisi just stared at him as though he were completely unimpressed, as though he knew that Rafael was just provoking him for a reaction. The phrase 'pulling pigtails' danced in the back of his mind, and he talked fast over it. "The bigger issue is these photos. How explicit do they get? 

"Well, help yourself." The whisper of a smirk that had been tugging at the corners of Carisi's mouth faded as he flipped up the cover of his tablet and handed it to Rafael. "Here." 

"Okay... Huh... you realize that just showing me these could be considered a federal crime?" Considering that they were evidence in a case he was actively working federal charges weren't exactly a risk, but he couldn't help himself. Besides, any excuse was a good excuse to stop looking at photos of fifteen year olds performing sex acts on each other. Nauseating; the mental image had been bad enough. He handed the tablet back to Carisi. 

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah, if that's your personal tablet, I'd get rid of those." The dumbfounded and vaguely nervous look on Carisi's face as he gingerly set the tablet down was everything he'd hoped it would be. It almost made up for his previous smug nonchalance. He turned his attention back to Rollins. "How viral has this gone?" 

Rollins shrugged, leaning forward in her seat, offering up an irritatingly vague answer. "In the school, pretty far." 

"Email? Text? Social media?" He'd have suggested they were posted like bills all over the hallways, but having actually seen the photos had taken a little of the humor out of his mood. 

"We're not sure." Carisi cut in and Rollins looked annoyed. "Parents circled their wagons. They brought up right to privacy issues." 

"I'm sure they did, but we gotta track these images down and remove them from the internet." Even he knew what a pie in the sky idea that was. Nothing was ever removed from the internet, and if the way Rollins was looking at him was any indication, she knew that too. 

"Awesome idea!" She exclaimed, not hiding her sarcasm. "How do we do that?" 

Rafael hated to be spoken too like he was an idiot. Defense attorneys and judges did it often enough, that came with the territory, but coming from thirty-something detectives was more than he was willing to take. What had been a pipe dream was suddenly a mission. "Contact trace it," he snapped. "You said these photos have been shared with every student in the school? Confiscate every kid's phone. Go from there." He dropped back into a chair and tried not to look too self-satisfied. 

"Every phone? Okay, why not call NSA, get them to tap their parents while we're at it?" Carisi leaned forward, his hands on the desk. It was Rafael's turn to roll his eyes. 

"Easy, Citizen Four, we're not wiretapping. But we have got to protect these kids. With facial recognition, Geo-tagging, photo tagging, there could be pornographers and predators honing in on them now." For a moment he felt as though it were Benson speaking through him. Rafael had always been the type to let people suffer the consequences of their own stupidity. He wondered if SVU was rubbing off on him, or if his ire was simply still up from Rollin's sarcasm. 

"You want to explain that to the parents?" Rollins stood up as though she already anticipated what he would say. 

"That's your job. Have fun."

\-----------

Twenty minutes after he had gone, Carisi had knocked on the door to the conference room and let himself in without waiting for a reply. "Hey, sorry. I forgot my tablet."

"God knows you wouldn't want to leave that lying around." Rafael pointed to where Carisi had left the tablet. He'd noticed it shortly after they left. 

"Yeah, well, it isn't my personal tablet, you know. But yeah. No I wouldn't." The detective shoved the tablet into his messenger bag, next to a copy of 'Sentencing Law & Policy: Cases Statutes & Guidelines'. The spine was broken, and Rafael had a brief urge to thumb through it before Carisi flipped the bag closed and set it down heavily on the table. Rafael was reasonably sure he hadn't had the satchel with him earlier. 

Carisi smiled at him, expression casual and hopeful. "Hey, Rafael, you think it'll take you long to get the warrant for the phones? I don't have class tonight. I thought you might want to get together when you're done." 

The sound of Carisi calling him by his first name was enough to make his head snap up in shock. "Don't call me Rafael." 

"Oh, hey, yeah sorry, I – wait, what?" The detective had begun apologizing, it seemed, before he even knew what he was saying. His brow furrowed. "I've done it before. I mean, you were fine with it the other night. You said I could. You've called me Sonny – which I appreciate, by the way, so-." 

"No, don't call me Rafael here." He touched the table in emphasis. "Not in my office, or the courthouse, or the precinct." 

"You know we're alone, right, _counselor_?" The younger man started to smile, leaning in toward him. 

"Even then. People walk in, they walk up, we could get careless. It isn't a good idea. This," he motioned back and forth between the two of them, "doesn't work without discretion. We're already way out on a limb. Not to mention that it's helpful to draw a distinction between our professional interactions and, well... anything else." 

"You're right," Carisi said, slowly, the smile gone. "Sorry. Yeah, that makes sense." He had a way of looking like a wounded puppy that made Rafael feel guilty. When compared to his early look of smug confidence at Rafael's legal barbs, it made him feel even worse. 

"You can call me Rafael when we're at my place, or your place." He'd never been to Carisi's Washington Heights apartment and couldn't think of any reason he ever would be, but it didn’t hurt to make the allowance. 

“You can call me Sonny any time, but don’t worry, I say that to everyone. I’ve kinda given up hope.” He grinned boyishly. “So, counselor, what do you say? Want to meet up?” 

“Regardless of how long the warrant takes, I’ll be here late. I’m working out the details of a plea for Ralph Kessel. After all is said and done, he may be looking at a worse deal that Donna Marshall. Witness tampering, obstruction of justice, perjury. So much more black and white than sex crimes, though I don’t know if it will be any comfort to your brother-in-law.” 

“Some, I think. I’ll explain it to him. I just think he’ll be happy he won’t have to testify again.” Carisi shrugged. “So, you want me to pick up some food and bring it back here? I mean, you gotta eat, right?” 

“Rose Callier is coming by later to consult on a case, we’re going to get a late bite.” Rafael glanced toward the door. “Isn’t Rollins waiting for you?” 

“Nah, we're done after this. I told her I'd just take the subway, she’s been on for ten hours and had to get home to Frannie.” Carisi waved a hand in the direction of the door. Rafael didn’t know who Frannie was and wasn’t interested in asking. Her dog, maybe? He thought she’d had a dog at the precinct once. At least now he knew why Carisi had his bag. 

“I’ll get outta your hair, though.” Carisi seemed to understand he was being dismissed, though he didn’t seem overly wounded by it. Rafael appreciated that. 

“No, it’s alright,” he replied, and at once felt he’d objected too fast. He pressed on regardless. “What about Friday?” 

“What about Friday?” Carisi blinked. “Wait, like, to get together?” 

Rafael resisted the temptation to roll his eyes at the detective’s vague euphemism for their dalliances. “For dinner. That’s what we were talking about, wasn’t it?” 

Carisi brightened so much and so suddenly it was as though the sun had risen in the conference room. His eyes twinkled, dimples popping at his wide smile. Rafael thought he looked beautiful, and instantly chastised himself for it. Those kind of thoughts were dangerous. 

He did look beautiful, though. Beautiful, and sweet, and happy. Rafael wanted to kiss him, and sparing a quick glance to be sure the door was closed, that’s what he did. 

Carisi didn’t seem startled or surprised at all. In fact, he melted into the kiss, returning it at once. His lips parted obligingly, and Rafael couldn’t resist such a sweet invitation. He had only meant to briefly kiss him, but moments passed, and he was in Carisi’s arms now, his hands cupping the other man’s ass, the wet sounds of their mouths and their increasingly heavy breathing filling the room. Something about kissing Carisi made his desire spike, made him feel fifteen years younger. 

Maybe because Carisi was fifteen years younger. That was a disturbing thought, though it wasn’t nearly as disturbing as the sexual charge that went through him when he had it. He'd never gone for younger men before, but now there was Carisi rolling his hips against him one floor above his office. That was something else he'd never done before Sonny Carisi; sex in his office. It seemed to be turning into a sudden bad habit. 

A few steps and his back was pressed against the door. He groped with one hand to throw the lock. Maybe he was reckless enough to do this – and more than once – but he wasn't going to do it where he could be walked in upon. 

Carisi crowded him against the door and dragged his lips down his throat. He sucked at his pulse point and Rafael hissed. "Don't you dare leave a mark on me, you heathen." 

The younger man chuckled low and breathy against his neck. "Sorry," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. "So, I gotta ask. We can't call each other by our first names in this building, but this -" He rocked his hips against him to make his point. "This is okay?" 

"Spoken like someone who wants to be kicked out." Rafael pushed at Carisi's hips, though he didn't push him away. Instead, he turned them, so the younger man's back was against the wall. He pushed a hand down between them, palming Carisi's cock where it strained against the front of his slacks. The detective huffed a breath and thrust up against his hand without shame. 

"No, no, I don't," Carisi replied with urgency, the teasing gone now from his voice. Rafael pressed the heel of his hand against the base of the other man's erection before stroking him again, firmly, rhythmically. He delighted in the breathy, wanton noises Carisi made so easily, though if he got much louder they were going to have a problem. It was only just past seven, they weren't the only ones in the building. "That feels so good, fuck, you can't stop now." 

Rafael absolutely could, and would if he were in a different mood, just to prove a point. Right now he had no mind to stop, however. He raised the hand that wasn't stroking Carisi and covered his mouth, exerting no real force, just enough pressure to let the other man know he wanted him to be quiet. 

"Shh," Rafael soothed, lifting his chin and scraping his teeth along Carisi's jaw, ghosting his lips over his ear. His own words were barely a whisper. "Shh. You don't want anyone to hear, do you?" 

He whimpered, actually whimpered, and stroked his tongue out along Rafael's hand. All at once two of his fingers were in the Carisi's mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hungrily, his tongue curling around them. He moaned around Rafael's fingers, but for all it's desperation it was a quiet sound. Of course it was; he had told him to be quiet, and Carisi was nothing if not eager to please. 

"That's right, that's good, quiet like that." Carisi's eyelashes fluttered at the praise, and Rafael thrust long fingers lightly past his plush lips. He was rutting himself forward against his hand, but Rafael leveraged his position into pinning Carisi's hips back to the door, keeping control of the pace, the pressure, of how much Carisi was feeling. 

He drew his hand away from Carisi's mouth, and he leaned forward, blinding chasing Rafael's fingers with his lips and tongue. It was a pretty sight, too pretty to resist, and Rafael kissed him again. It was languid, slow and dirty, a counter to the frantic energy Carisi was putting off. The detectives hips stuttered a little against his hand, and Rafael drew back from the kiss with a slow curl of his tongue. 

He only moved far enough to whisper against Carisi's mouth. "Could you come like this?" 

The pink of Carisi's cheeks mottled to a violent blush as he nodded, soundlessly. Rafael knew from previous encounters that he blushed all the way down to his stomach, and he wished they were somewhere else, alone, with time to spare. He'd like to peel the layers off Carisi, to hear the full volume of his whimpers, to see that full body-blush streaked with come. His blue eyes were fixed on him, a silent plea shining in them. 

Rafael smirked, and Carisi's cheeks somehow flushed an even deeper red. "Is that really what you want?" He taunted him softly, teased, even as he picked up the pace and pressure of his stroking of the other man through his clothing. "You want me to make you come in your clothes like a teenager?" 

Carisi's only answer was to nod, clearly too far gone for shame to stop him. He leaned forward in an attempt to catch Rafael's mouth, and he leaned back, just enough to stay out of reach, their breath still mingling. 

"Yeah?" Rafael asked, still smirking. He just couldn't help himself. 

"Please," Carisi asked, the whisper catching in his throat, his forehead pressed against Rafael's. "Please kiss me, please." 

Who could refuse such a sweet request? Rafael touched the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to his. He swallowed the younger man's strangled moan when Carisi rocked his hips forward, shuddered, and came. He was still kissing him, slower and sweeter now, long after the last trembles of his orgasm had passed, and Carisi was sagging bonelessly against the door. Rafael only pulled back when Carisi's hand moved to the front of Rafael's slacks, stroking him experimentally through the material. 

"Not on your life," Rafael arched an eyebrow. "I like this suit." 

Carisi chuckled, his dimple standing out sharply as he smiled. He scrambled gracelessly to his knees and began undoing Rafael's trousers. "Better not mess it up then, huh?" 

"I don't have time for this," Rafael protested, though he made no move to pull away. He dropped a hand to the back of Carsis's head, stroking his fingers briefly through his hair. "Warrants. Plea deal. Rose Callier." 

"I better be fast, then," Carisi said, drawing Rafael out. He didn't wait for a reply before his mouth was on him. 

Rafael closed his eyes and let out a breath. Carisi still had no technique, but to rely on cliché, what he lacked in experience he more than made up for with enthusiasm. Rafael rocked his hips forward and Carisi moaned around him. 

No, this wouldn't take too long at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from the Violent Femme's "Color Me Once". My wife thinks this is the sexiest song ever performed, so I had to include it.  
> Thanks for the patience on this chapter. Real life, right? Hope you all enjoy it! Come hang out with me on tumblr, I'm power-bottom-barba. :)
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (In chapter four, Barba says he's 'close enough (to gay) to make no difference'. I know he has had relationships with women in the past, which I don't feel that precludes him from ambiguously choosing to identify as gay in his forties.)


	7. the good part comes between wanting and needing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven Prompt: Half-Dressed. (Also, Praise kink! Surprise bonus!)  
> S16, E20 - Daydream Believer.

Sonny stayed at the bar until the impromptu memorial for Nadia Decotis began to break up. Though he hadn't known her while she was living, between the investigation and the trial, she had become a presence in his life to be mourned; real, and meaningful, and gone. Even more so, after spending an emotional evening listening to Lindsay, Voight, and Halstead telling stories about her; though he couldn't help feeling like something of a voyeur when presented with the raw, personal pain of the squad from Chicago.

He was tired, somehow both drained and wound tight all at once. 

He wished Barba had come out with them.

While the bartender closed his tab, he pulled out his phone. He knew Barba wasn't likely to be working the night after he won a case. He would usually come out for a least a celebratory round with the squad, but Sonny supposed this was different. The victim had been family to half of the detectives who investigated the case.

He tapped out a text. 

_'hey you busy'_

It was only a moment before his phone buzzed on the bar top, and he unlocked it with a swipe. 

_'Do I strike you as someone with an overabundance of free time?'_

A flash of a grin passed over his face involuntarily at Barba's reply, a snarky text from the other man enough to turn his mood, at least for a moment. He fired off a reply at once.

_'so that's a yes'_

Amaro clapped him on the shoulder, a few drinks in and made friendly by the somber mood. A member of law enforcement died, and died horribly, and all those who remained were brothers now. At least for the night. "Night, Carisi." His smile was tight but genuine, and Sonny returned it.

"See you Monday." He nodded to Amaro, and then to Amanda, who was standing a few feet behind him. "Bye, Rollins." They were being more conspicuous than usual leaving together, but he was in no position to judge, given that he'd just been beaming at his cell phone like a teenager. 

There was a reply from Barba waiting when the other two had walked away.

_'What do you need, Carisi?'_

He paused a moment, uncertain of Barba's tone. A reply like that could be annoyed or dismissive as easily as it could be sincere. In the end he decided to press his luck, betting that winning a hard case had put the lawyer in at least a decent mood. He sent two messages, one after the other.

_'everyone is heading out from the bar'_  
_'are you at home'_

He finished closing out his tab before checking his phone again. He was pleased to see his instincts had been good, Barba's response displayed his usual sarcastic humor.

_'Even I leave the office from time to time. Are you drunk?'_

'nah', he replied at once, before picking up his coat from where it hung over the back of a bar stool. Barba's reply came quickly this time, before Sonny could even get the jacket on.

_'Do you want to come over?'_

_'thought you'd never ask'_  
_'be there in 20'_

Sonny managed to keep the grin off his face as he typed his reply, if for no other reason than out of respect for Halstead and Lindsey, who lingered over half-empty glasses in grief at the far end of the bar. He felt a pang of guilt as he dropped his phone into his pocket and weaved down the bar to make his goodbyes. His own pain didn’t hold a candle to theirs, but that didn't stop him from wanting to escape from it in the softness of Barba's body.

\----------

\----------

"Hey -…" Any charming greetings or clever come-ons Sonny had been planning on his way to the other man's apartment went right out of his head when Barba opened the door. He was wearing dark jeans and the softest looking grey cashmere sweater Sonny had ever seen. "Oh. Hey."

He knew he must be standing there with a strange look on his face, as Barba arched a single eyebrow as he looked at him. Sonny couldn’t help it. Seeing the lawyer in anything other than slim three piece suits and tailored jackets was like seeing an animal you only saw in the zoo suddenly out in the wild. Yeah, sure, he’d seen him naked, seen him stretching out and falling apart as he came, but even that was somehow less bizarre than seeing him dressed casually. 

He was in his stocking feet, in dove grey socks that matched his sweater. They wouldn’t have matched the suit he wore in court that afternoon, which meant he had changed them when he changed the rest of his clothes. Sonny would never do anything like that; it was so Barba. Peacocking even when there was no one to see him.

The man himself seemed to have lost his patience for being gawked at in his doorway. “Are you coming inside?” he asked, gesturing with a sweep of his arm toward the interior of his apartment. At least he sounded more amused than annoyed. 

Sonny stepped inside with a smile that was only a little sheepish. “Yeah, thanks.” He shrugged out of his jacket and suit coat in one, hanging them on the wooden carved coat rack, next to a long black coat with a lamb’s wool collar that made his own feel cheap by comparison. Barba’s apartment was warm and dimly lit by a lamp on the far side of the room; it was near the floor to ceiling windows that looked down on tree-lined Columbus Avenue. Sonny admired the view every time he had been there; his own windows looked out over an alley filled with garbage cans, and offered a stunning view of a brick wall. 

A half-full glass of red wine and book sat on the table next to the lamp. Sonny could easily imagine Barba sprawled back in his armchair, stocking feet up on the ottoman in front of him, reading a novel and sipping wine in front of his Upper West Side view. It was a pretty enough picture to look staged, except that Barba would never bother setting a scene to impress Sonny. He was craning his head, trying to see the title of the book, when Barba interrupted him. 

“Glass of wine?” He picked up an empty glass which Sonny now noticed had been sitting out beside the bottle of Malbec on Barba’s overlarge dining room table, which was more apt to be covered in papers than set with dishes. Apparently he had at least this much preparation for Sonny’s arrival, retrieving a wine glass from wherever they were secreted in his kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Sonny said again, leaning on the edge of the table as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. “No scotch tonight?”

“There’s something to be said for variety.” Barba poured a glass and handed it to Sonny. He took the bottle with him as he walked the short distance into his living room proper, a clear invitation for Sonny to follow. He retrieved his own glass of wine and topped it off before setting the bottle down on the coffee table. He sat on the couch instead of back in his armchair, and Sonny joined him, not touching but close enough that he could reach out if he wanted.

And he did want, very much, but patience was a virtue. He took a sip of his wine; bold and heady, rich fruit flavors and dry tannins on his tongue.

“You should have come out with everyone,” he said, crossing his ankle over his knee, stretching out an arm along the back of the couch. If he moved his hand just a couple inches, he could put his hand on Barba’s shoulder or card his fingers through his short hair.

Barba shrugged. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Nah, come on, you’re always welcome out with us after, you know that...” Barba had been out more than once with them for a celebratory drink, even once or twice to drown sorrows after a bad verdict. 

“I didn’t know her,” he said, with a swallow of wine.

Sonny hadn’t known her either, but he knew what Barba was driving at. Nadia had been law enforcement; not a cop yet, but she was going to be. She was one of theirs. Family. As far as Sonny was concerned, Barba was their family too, but he supposed it was in a different way.

”You did a great job on this case, you know?” He gave Barba a tight lipped smile over the edge of his glass. “You really did right by Nadia. I mean, Yates really had that jury fooled, but the way you played him, got him to show what he really is… that was really something, Rafael. I was really impressed.” 

“You’re impressed by a motions hearing,” Barba said dismissively. Though he looked at least somewhat pleased by the compliment, he didn’t smile.

“Yeah, well, we were all impressed.” Sonny didn’t bother to deny that he found nearly everything Barba did in court to be impressive. He was too busy enjoying that he had managed to call the other man by his first name without any protests or arguments. Even within the defined walls of Barba’s apartment, it usually earned him at least a look if they weren’t in bed together.

“It was a rough case,” Barba confessed, when he finally spoke again after a slow drink. “Some victories are harder than others to celebrate.”

“No, no, I know what you mean.” Sonny leaned toward Barba, gesturing with his glass as he spoke. “There are some cases where what happens is so terrible… I mean, I’m not saying that any of the victims that we see had it easy or anything, you know? But after these guys get put away you want to feel like you did a good day's work, that you really helped somebody. It’s hard when you just feel like you’re too late for the victim.”

“Something like that,” Barba agreed slowly. He had turned in his seat to better watch him as he spoke, and Sonny felt a brief flutter of nerves, hoping he wasn’t babbling or saying something either too naïve or too emotional. Something about Barba in quiet moments could rattle his usually unshakeable confidence. He pressed on regardless, washing his nerves down with wine.

“I used to work homicide, you know? A couple years. We’d always see cases like this. Wasn't always so gruesome, but the end was always the same. Maybe you could get peace for a girl’s family, I mean, for the victim’s family.” He saw women and men in homicide, but the women were the ones who had stayed with him: not killed over drugs or gang violence, but so often dead at the hands of the men in their lives, Husbands, lovers, admirers, fathers. Men who should have protected them, rather than been the danger. “In SVU, there’s still a chance we can really help them. Put it all back together, give them a sense of safety again, give them justice.”

“We got justice for Nadia Decotis.” Barba contended, and leaned into the couch, accidentally bumping Sonny’s hand. At once Sonny stroked his thumb along his shoulder, pleased when Barba didn’t move away from the touch.

“We did,” Sonny allowed, grudgingly. “But too late to do her any good. She’s gone.”

“It’s still justice.” Barba’s voice was surprisingly mild. It always threw Sonny off when the other man wasn’t at least a little caustic, but he enjoyed it as a rare treat. “It’s the difference between you and I. Police try to prevent crime as well as pursue criminals, at least in theory. Stop the worst before it happens. I come into it when it’s over.”

“Ecch. That’s a bit oversimplified, don’t you think?” Sonny looked at Barba a bit dubiously. He wondered if it was melancholy at the case that lead him to such a nihilistic description of his profession.

“Just trying to bring it down to a Fordham level for you,” he said with a slight roll of his eyes. There was humor in his voice, however, and Sonny couldn’t help but grin in response. This was more the Barba he was familiar with.

“Yeah yeah, ha ha.” He pressed the flat of his palm against the other man’s shoulder, rubbing warmly. He couldn't be sure, but it felt almost as though Barba leaned into his touch. He chose to believe it, even if it was only his imagination. “You shouldn’t be hard on yourself, though. You do plenty to prevent crimes. You stop them before they do it again, put them away. And get justice for the victim.”

“I’m sorry, have we switched sides of this little debate?” Barba downed the last of his wine and leaned forward to retrieve the bottle, moving away from Sonny’s hand on his shoulder. 

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like Barba to offer up glimpses of vulnerability or normal human feeling without a quick return to snappy one liners and sarcastic quips. He had compared him to a peacock earlier, but upon further reflection he thought a porcupine would also be apt. Or one of those brightly colored lizards that spit poison.

“All I’m saying is, I know how some cases can get to you. Like you said, this one was rough.” He drained his wine glass and allowed Barba to refill it. “You gotta get inside their heads, you know? That’s not always easy to shake off, when it’s bad.”

“It’s the job,” Barba said, more curt than anything else, dragging a hand over his own mouth. “Did you come over here to psychoanalyze me?”

Sonny smiled in a way he knew to be disarming, willing to move away from heavier topics if that’s what the other man wanted. He wasn’t going to get his mind off the horrors Yates committed by talking about them until all the air was sucked out of the room. “I came over here because you invited me.”

“You invited yourself, I just helped you cut to the chase. I couldn’t wait around all day for you to work up to it.” Light from the lamp reflected in Barba’s green eyes, his smirking mouth red and inviting from the dark wine. Sonny felt a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the drinks.

“Yeah, I know, you’re real busy. You got time to sit around drinking with me, though. Very romantic, counselor.” He chose to ignore the incredulous way Barba’s eyebrows inched toward his hairline at the word ‘romantic,’ and instead leaned closer, grinning.

“Objection – I opened the wine before you intruded on my quiet evening. You’d prefer I pawed at you the minute you came in the door? Though maybe I should have, nothing quite sets the mood like an in depth discussion about the psychological toll of working in the criminal justice system.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Low lighting, wine, badinage. I think we got something here, am I right?” He settled his hand again on Barba’s shoulder. That sweater really was unreasonably soft. He resisted the urge to start stroking the other man’s chest.

“I don’t know if I can take more of the Sonny Carisi brand of sweet talking.” Barba set down his half-empty wine glass and Sonny followed suit, perhaps too quickly. It was only ever after his earnest displays of enthusiasm that he remembered his resolution to seem less like an overeager teenager getting the chance to touch his first girlfriend.

Their kiss was soft and heady with the taste of the wine. Barba’s hands settled with a warm weight on his waist and his back, not pulling him close but simply touching him, holding him. Sonny cupped Barba’s face with his hand, stroking the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone, feeling the scrape of stubble against his palm. The lingering scent of the other man’s cologne mixed with the rich scent of the wine and made Sonny feel far more intoxicated than the few drinks he’d had that evening should allow.

Everything was slower and softer than usual, and Sonny reveled in it. He wondered briefly if it was because they had been talking, really talking, about thoughts and feelings instead of facts and evidence. It made sense that Barba would be more comfortable expressing affection or showing vulnerability with action, rather than words. It would be easier to deny later. Sonny didn’t mind, not now, anyway. He licked at the warm invitation of Barba’s open mouth, swallowing the other man’s soft sighs of enjoyment.

“You know what?” he murmured, his lips brushing the other man’s as he did, “I think this is actually why I came over. Now that I think about it.” He slid a hand around Barba’s waist, fingers slipping up under the hem of his sweater to brush the warm skin of his lower back.

“You don’t say.” Sonny never failed to be impressed at how Barba’s tongue could drip sarcasm in all situations, even while it was busy intermittently drawing kisses from his mouth. 

They took their time letting the heat build between them, a slow progression from gentle touches and languid kisses to Sonny lying back against the couch with Barba on top of him, his leg slotted up between the other man’s thighs and grinding against the bulge in his jeans. The older man’s hands were pushed up under Sonny’s now untucked shirt, gripping his waist and thrusting lazily against him. 

This was what Sonny had wanted. All thoughts of Nadia and Yates and Erin Lindsay’s tears had faded away to some quiet corner of his mind. All he had room to think about was the soft weight of Barba against him, the heat of the other man’s wet mouth, the grind and friction of their bodies through their clothes. He was all at once perfectly grounded by Barba’s body, and floating on the pleasure of losing himself in the moment.  
He barely noticed that Barba had unbuckled his belt and undone his pants, his hand on Sonny’s hip enough to inch them down. What he could not fail to notice is when that hand pushed down into his briefs and stroked him, clever fingers making Sonny moan as they curled around him.

“Oh, yeah. Fuck, Rafael…” Sonny pressed his face against Barba’s neck and kissed wetly at his throat. He cupped Barba’s round ass, pulling him down closed against him, pushing his thigh up to rub between his legs.

Barba hummed an appreciative sound as he kissed at Sonny’s jaw, though if it was in response to the friction of his body or the sound of his name on Sonny’s sigh, he didn’t know.

“Is that good?” Barba asked, voice pitched low. It was practically a purr. He stroked Sonny again, twisting his wrist just so to drag his palm over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, yeah.” Sonny stretched out under Barba, dropping his head back to the couch and letting out a slow sigh of pleasure as he bit down on his own kiss-swollen lower lip. “Yeah, you know it is, you know I like it.”

Sonny could have sworn that Barba’s pupils dilated at his words. That, or something dark flashed across his eyes, which suddenly seemed much more heavily lidded than they had been before. He looked down at him through his lashes. “Yeah?” he asked, giving Sonny another firm stroke, and eliciting another moan, this one louder than the last.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s so good.” Sonny reached up and drew Barba down for a kiss, hot and dirty, licking into the other man’s mouth as if to show him just how good his touch felt.

Barba’s kiss was hungry, and his hand left Sonny long enough to push his slacks and briefs most of the way down his thighs. He tugged at the button of his own jeans, undoing the fly and pushing them down as well along with his boxers, just below his round ass. Sonny felt the hard length of his newly exposed prick brush against his own and groaned into Barba’s mouth.

“Turn over,” Barba said, hands heavy and insistent on his hips. 

Sonny was so eager to comply that he was already on his stomach before a wave of panic gripped him. Barba was pressed up close behind him, his cock rubbing against the cleft of Sonny’s exposed ass. He turned his head to look back at Barba where he was kissing Sonny’s shoulder through his shirt, grinding down against him. 

“Hey,” Sonny said, embarrassed by the way his voice cracked and stuttered with his nerves. “Wait, I, uh…” 

“Relax,” Barba said, his voice soothing and steady enough that Sonny couldn’t help but unclench his stomach a bit. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck you, okay?”

Something about the way he said it, so calm and matter-of-fact, made a fresh bloom of arousal unfurl inside of Sonny, but it wasn’t enough to counteract the shame and discomfort. He felt a mottled blush of humiliation spreading over his face, not from the way Barba’s voice turned him on, but at the panic that had welled up in him when the older man had pressed up behind him. He trusted Barba, he was attracted to him, wanted to be here with him. He’d had the man’s dick in his mouth more than once, for god’s sake, but something about the idea of doing… that, of being on his hands and knees… It felt like crossing a line, more real and more _gay_ than he was willing to be, than he could imagine himself being. He felt like the room was spinning around him.

Apparently some of this unrest had shown on his face or in his body language, because Barba had pulled back a little and stilled. “It’s okay,” he said, softly and without judgement. “We should stop.”

“No!” Sonny said at once, and then again, more softly, aiming for enticing. “No, please. I don’t want to stop.” He felt like an idiot, self-conscious now that he’d let his insecurity spoil the mood. He rocked back against Barba, who huffed out a little breath at the contact.

“Turn back over, then. Let me blow you,” Barba offered, easy and accommodating, stroking a hand along Sonny’s bare hip. 

“No, I’m okay.” He took Barba’s hand and pulled it down to his cock so he could feel how hard he still was, to prove that he wanted this. “I trust you, keep going, okay?”

The older man hesitated a moment before stroking him, the rough drag of his palm enough to make Sonny’s hips jerk forward in pleasure. “Are you sure?”

Sonny couldn’t blame him for double checking. In their line of work, he liked to hear his partners say yes over and over again, too. “I’m sure, I’m really sure. Come on, Rafael. Keep going.” He thrust shallowly into Barba’s fist, and rocked back against his body. 

He didn’t know if it was his words of the movements of his body, but something seemed to have convinced Barba. The other man pressed forward against him again, kissing his neck. “Sonny,” he sighed, apparently for no other reason than the pleasure of saying his name. That alone was enough to melt any doubt or apprehension that still lingered in him. 

“Keep your thighs pressed together,” Barba instructed, and pulled his head back enough to spit twice into his hand. Sonny could feel him reach down and give his own prick a few quick tugs before spitting into his hand again. He was surprised by how much such a thing could turn him on, and he pushed his face into the arm of the couch, moaning shamefully as Barba pushed his slick fingers between the very top of his thighs, just below his ass. Knuckles rubbed up against his perineum and he squirmed back against the contact. Barba sighed. “Yeah, good, just like that.”

Sonny moaned and pressed his face tighter against the arm of the arm of the couch, using it muffle himself as Barba pushed himself between his thighs. His cock pushed up against his balls and the sensitive place behind, and the movement of his hips pushed Sonny forward, making him thrust into the hand Barba still had wrapped around his dick.

“Shit,” Sonny gasped, gripping the couch and pushing back against the other man. Barba set an easy rhythm, his hand stroking Sonny at the same pace he thrust between his thighs. The sensations of Barba’s prick pushing up against him were secondary to the pleasure of his hand around him, but something about them made Sonny feel shaken and undone in the best of ways. Here and now, in the moment, the idea that Barba could angle his hips upward and thrust inside of him made Sonny moan wantonly. He could feel himself leaking precome into the other man’s hand.

He pushed his ass back against Barba’s thrusts, and the other man groaned his approval.

“That’s right, that’s good, push back against me. God, Sonny.” Barba’s thrusts sped up, the twist of his wrist where he held Sonny’s prick matching his speed. The movement of Barba’s hips forced Sonny to fuck into the other man’s fist, and he didn’t know if that was what was making him moan, or if it was the sound of Barba saying his name.

“Yeah? You like that, counselor? I’m doing good for you?” Sonny was emboldened by Barba’s praise and completely without control of the words that came out of his mouth. He could feel pressure coiling inside him, and his hips stuttered as they tried to thrust back against Barba’s hips and forward into his hand all at once.

He would have been embarrassed by his words later, if it weren’t for the fact that Barba didn’t seem to mind at all. On the contrary, he groaned low and loud and thrust hard against Sonny, the hand that wasn’t jerking him off so expertly gripping hard on his shoulder. “Fuck yes, you’re doing so good, so good Sonny, such a good boy for me.”

“Oh god, fuck, Rafael, fuck!” Sonny came so hard and so unexpectedly that he couldn’t muffle the hoarse cry that ripped from his throat. He thrust hard against Barba’s hand, his own hands grasping and clawing at the arm of the couch, desperate for something to hold onto. It felt as though it lasted forever, and Barba’s thrusts had slowed while Sonny drew ragged breaths. 

“You alright?” Barba asked hoarsely, while Sonny’s heard still hammered in his chest.

“Yeah,” he panted, weakly pressing back against Barba again, encouragingly. “Keep going. Come on, Rafael…” 

Barba didn’t take much convincing, and began to thrust against Sonny again in earnest. He dragged his hand up in front of Sonny’s face, and he could see the pearly streaks on his palm where Barba had caught his come. He didn’t need to be told what to do. Sonny lifted one hand and took hold of Barba’s wrist, pulling his hand to his mouth and lapping at his palm. After the first few hesitant licks he began in earnest, broad strokes of his tongue from wrist to fingertip, cleaning his hand completely, sucking long fingers into his mouth, and moaning as he did.

It must have been what Barba wanted, because the older man groaned and thrust hard against Sonny, his hips jerking arrhythmically. Sonny felt the wet heat of Barba’s come between his thighs and moaned around his fingers, grinding back against him to ride out his climax. 

Afterward, they lay entangled on Barba’s sofa, clothing pulled back on, breathing evening out. It was the first time they had held each other afterward, deliberately, coming back together after breaking apart to wipe away the worst of the mess and straighten themselves out. Sonny’s heart was beating so hard he was sure Barba could feel it, though if he could, he said nothing. His hand was rubbing in small aimless circles on Sonny’s chest, his cheek resting against the back of his shoulder. 

Spooning. That’s what they were doing, and Sonny was the little spoon. Nothing he had just done was anything like him, he could barely recognize himself in the actions. They had felt so good and so right in the moment; as right as Barba’s warm, slow breath on his neck, as his body pressed up close behind him. 

Sonny closed his eyes. He wanted to enjoy this moment as long as it lasted, knowing that eventually he would have to disentangle his limbs from Barba’s and go home. There would be time enough for self-doubt then. For now, he covered Barba’s hand with his, and squeezed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Arab Strap's "The Good Part".  
> Once again, sorry for delay! Please leave me lots of comments and kudos because Sonny isn't the only one with praise kink. :) 
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (In chapter four, Barba says he's 'close enough (to gay) to make no difference'. I know he has had relationships with women in the past, which I don't feel that precludes him from ambiguously choosing to identify as gay in his forties.)


	8. could you whisper in my ear the things you wanna feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eight Prompt: Phone Sex.  
> S16, E22 - Parent's Nightmare.

Four days into his stay at La Villa du Pecheur at Le Sereno on St. Barth’s, and Rafael was finally feeling relaxed. While he hadn’t failed to enjoy his first few days soaking up sun, swimming, and sailing, it always took a few days to shake off the stress and pressure he carried around with him in New York. It didn’t help that they were regularly calling him for advice and updates; or that he couldn’t resist calling them when the updates didn’t come often enough. 

He had just finished a long shower, washing away the day’s salt water and sand and getting ready for the evening. He had met a man on the beach that afternoon, a cardiologist from Munich who had come for a scuba diving holiday. Charming, handsome, and forward, Gerald was everything Rafael had in mind when he planned this trip six months ago. The man had made his interest clear at once, and they had made arrangements to meet for drinks at his hotel that night.

His body was buzzing with anticipation as he stood in the open French doors of his suite, looking out over his private deck to the ocean. The moonlight flickered on the water, a cool breeze blowing in and prickling like electricity over his skin. He felt as though he were in a suspended state of mild arousal; he had prepped for that night in the shower, working himself open with two fingers until he felt entirely sexual and soft.

When his long fingers had pressed up against his prostate, he had pictured Sonny Carisi and sighed in pleasure.

His phone buzzed where he had left it plugged in on the desk. He crossed the room and unplugged it, smiling when he saw who had texted him. It was as though Carisi had sensed that Rafael had been thinking of him. He unlocked his phone and read the message, walking back to stand in the open doorway. His towel hung low where it was tied around his hips.

_‘it was the dad, can you believe it? poor kid’_

He smiled and tapped out a response. _‘You missed the chance for a breaking story. Benson already told me.’_

Carisi replied three times, rapid fire. _‘damn’_  
‘well if i called you all the time on the job people might talk’  
‘i just got home’

 _‘How is the boy?’_ Carisi was good with kids, unlike Rafael. Benson had mentioned that he’d been bonding with the boy after he was recovered.

_‘owen’s gonna be ok i think. good kid. got it rough with his mother tho’_

_‘Two days is an impressive close. You all did good work.’_ Given what he’d been told he wouldn't need to be involved, one of the ADAs with less seniority would be able to handle the plea neatly. SVU had done a clean job of closing the case.

_‘was that a compliment???? the caribbean agrees with you’  
‘how is st barth’s? you having fun???’_

Rafael chuckled at Carsi's excessive use of question marks and stepped further out onto his deck, turning his phone and taking a picture. He sent it to Carisi.

_‘holy cow is that your view???? WOW’_  
‘send me a selfie:)’

He barked a laugh at the notion. _‘No.’_

_‘cmon. big smile please:) :) :)’_

_‘Definitely no.’_ He rolled his eyes.

_‘then tell me what you’re wearing’_

_‘Please. Could you be more of a cliché?’_ While he felt Carisi deserved the sarcastic reply, the cheesy line did give him a brief thrill. He blamed that on his already heightened sexual mood.

_‘you like it. cmon give me something.’  
‘i miss you. i had a long day’_

Rafael smiled and retreated into his hotel room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His towel pulled loose, but still lay over his lap. It was just like Carisi to so openly say that he missed him, even if it was just as a sexual partner. It wasn’t that Rafael wasn’t missing their dalliances, he just wouldn’t come out and say it so openly. His phone buzzed with another message before he replied.

_‘sorry you’re probably busy vacationing haha’_

He smirked. Carisi was offering him a polite exit to their conversation. Considerate, but Rafael wasn’t interested in taking it. He dialed the detective’s number.

"Hey!" Carisi sounded happy, surprised, but weary also. He supposed it had been a long few days for the other man.

"It's not that I'm busy, I just can't bear anymore of your abysmal texting.” Rafael scolded him at once, wasting no time on greetings and resuming their conversation where it left off. “Do you have some kind of past trauma with punctuation?" 

Carisi laughed. “I’m trying to hit on you, not write you an essay.”

“I’d be more effectively wooed by a command of the English language.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I do alright – at English and wooing you.” 

“Don’t make me start reconsidering that particular lapse of judgement.” Sometimes he wondered if he was incapable of not being a sarcastic ass when he wasn’t speaking to a jury. Carisi just laughed.

“So much for your vacation inspired good mood. Does this mean you’re not going to tell me what you’re wearing?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Carisi repeated, confused.

“I’m not wearing anything. Well. A towel.” Rafael kept his voice deliberately casual, the better to fluster the younger man.

“Are you kidding me with this?” Carisi groaned. “That’s a joke, right?”

“No,” Rafael said, his voice rich with amusement. “I’d just gotten out of the shower when I got your message.”

“Wow. Okay. Well now I really wish I were there with you.”

“The stunning vistas weren’t enough?”

“I mean, those are good too, but – wait, were you out on that patio by the pool in just a towel?”

“It’s private. And I did have the towel.” Rafael had been swimming naked in that pool earlier in the day, just because he could, but he wasn’t willing to provide Sonny with that kind of ammunition.

“You’re actually killing me right now. You still out there?”

“No,” Rafael said, leaning back onto the clean white linen of his room’s king sized bed. He ran his hand through his hair, deeming it dry enough for the pillows. “I’m back in the room, on the bed. The doors are still open, though. I can see the ocean, feel the breeze.”

“Yeah, feel the breeze on your entirely naked body?”

“You forget the towel.”

“Don’t you think it might be better without the towel?”

“That idea isn’t without merit.” Carisi made a pleased sound on the other end of the phone, and Rafael grinned. He flipped the towel back so it was no longer covering him. “Where are you?”

“My couch. You want a picture of my view? Coffee table covered in homework, topped with most of my suit; you can just get a glimpse of my bathroom if you look left. Stunning vistas.”

“Sounds charming. I’d rather have a picture of you.” It wasn’t the sort of thing he would usually request, but Carisi had given him the idea before, and in the moment a half-dressed picture of the handsome young detective sounded perfect.

“Uh-huh, when I asked you for one I believe your answer was ‘definitely no,” so…”

“Touché.” It was fair, though he hadn’t entirely ruled out talking him into it. He was fairly sure if he asked sincerely enough, Carisi would jump at the chance to do as he was asked. “How much of that suit are you still wearing?”

“None. Just boxers and a t-shirt.”

“Not briefs?” Rafael raised an eyebrow. He had gotten used to seeing Carisi in surprisingly stylish briefs that hung low on his narrow hips.

“Why, counselor, I didn’t know you were paying attention.”

“I've undressed you twice a week for the past two months,” Rafael said, rolling his eyes. “I possess basic observational skills.”

Carisi chuckled, clearly not bothered by the derision in Rafael’s voice. Of course, if that were the sort of thing likely to bother him, they likely wouldn’t have _been_ sleeping together for the past two months. “You got me. They’re just to sleep in. You want to undress me now?”

“That distance allowed it. You could do it for me.”

It had been a joke – mostly a joke – but at once there was the sound of shuffling and the rustle of fabric on the other end of the line. 

“Done,” Carisi said, a grin in his voice. Rafael could picture his deep dimples on his flushed cheeks. 

“So eager,” he teased.

“What can I say, I like picturing you stretched out tan and naked in your Caribbean paradise. Gets me all excited.”

Rafael smirked and closed his eyes, resting the hand that wasn’t holding the phone to his ear low on the soft curve of his stomach. “Oh?” he asked, his voice pitched a little lower. “How excited?” 

Rafael usually wouldn’t have surrendered so easily to something as undignified as phone sex, but he was feeling loose from the salt water and sand, and turned on by the warm night breeze blowing over his naked body. That he had been preparing and stretching himself with two fingers in the shower for his rendezvous later that evening likely also contributed to his mood.

“You wanna know if I’m hard, Rafael?” Carisi’s voice was a softer, huskier. His bedroom voice. Rafael gave a small ‘hmm’ of assent and the other man continued. “Yeah, I am.”

He palmed his own stirring cock lazily. “I haven’t even been gone a week.”

“Feels longer. I miss your body, wish I could get my hands on you right now. I miss your mouth.”

The sound of Carisi’s breathing told Rafael that he had started masturbating. Fully hard now, he wrapped his hand around his prick and squeezed. “Is that what you think about when you touch yourself, Sonny? My mouth on you?”

“Yeah, yeah I do… and mine on you. I think about your cock, about your ass… fuck, I love your ass.”

Rafael chuckled, but it was a low sound, thick with arousal. He was stroking himself now, slow but tight. “So worked up, so fast,” Rafael soothed, and was sure he heard Carisi moan. “Maybe I should have brought you with me.”

“Wish you had. Are you hard? You touching yourself too?”

“The image of your lips wrapped around my cock does have a rousing effect,” he murmured, though the sounds of Carisi’s labored breathing and low voice in his ear was doing more to spur him than anything else.

“Fuck, your voice,” Carisi sighed, unsurprisingly more honest than Rafael. “Do you… tell me, ah, I want…”

Rafael jerked himself more sharply as Carisi gasped and stuttered in his ear. “What do you want?” he coaxed.

“God, I want to be inside you,” Carisi moaned at once, followed by a sudden quiet.

Rafael’s eyes shot open, barely managing to bite back a groan as his hips rocked forward without his permission. A long moment of silence stretched, filled only by the heavy sound of their breathing.

“Uh, I –“ Sonny started, sounding nervous, but Rafael cut him off at once. 

“Is that what you want? You want to be inside me, Sonny?” Far from nervous, Rafael sounded for the first time as unguarded and wanton as Carisi had moaning into the phone in New York. His voice was low and rough as he asked again. “You want to fuck me?”

“Oh god. Yeah, fuck yeah, I do. Is, uh – is that something you…” 

“Yes,” Rafael hissed, handling himself roughly now, hard and fast. “Will you do a good job for me, do it right? Open me up with your fingers, with your mouth? Do you know how, amorcito?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carisi panted. “I know what to do. Push your legs up, lick you open. You gonna let me, Rafael? Let me inside?”

“Fuck, yes. Yes. God, come on Sonny, fuck me, hard, harder, do it…” Rafael loved the breathy whines that came from Carisi every time he said his name. Rafael’s mouth had gotten away from him, but he was too far gone to care. He wished he’d put the phone on speaker before so he could push his fingers into himself and imagine the stretch of Carisi pushing inside.

“I will, I am, god. Fuck, I’m so close.”

“Me too. Come on, come on. You want to come inside me, huh? Do it, make me come, fuck me, come on…” The motion of his hand was practically violent, and his breath was coming in pants between his words.

Carisi didn’t reply, just let out a series of rapid gasps before he groaned, loud and low. The sound went through Rafael like electricity and he gave himself a few last rough jerks, imagining Carisi’s hands gripping at his hips and fucking him down into the mattress. He moaned as he came, hot and wet across his soft belly.

Long moments stretched between them, with nothing but the sound of their uneven breathing slowing and growing steady. Feeling weak and boneless, Rafael reached to the nightstand for a tissue only to find nothing, remembering he wasn’t at home. He used the towel to mop off his stomach, his shower gone to ruin.

It was Carisi who finally broke the silence with a hoarse chuckle. “That was so hot,” he said, and once again Barba was fairly sure he could hear a grin in his voice. “I can’t believe we did that. I mean, I didn’t really think you’d go for it, you know?”

“Phone sex?” Rafael dropped the towel off the side of the bed, rolling onto his side and stretching languidly. The linens and pillows felt deliciously plush and soft under him.

“Well, yeah.”

“What can I say,” Rafael smiled, feeling even more relaxed than he had before he called Carisi, and he didn’t think that was possible. “I’m on vacation.”

“Yeah, that’s a good time as any to try something you wouldn’t usually do.” There was the sound of movement, shuffling, and a sigh. He assumed Carisi was stretching out on his sofa.

“Mmm,” Rafael agreed lazily, reaching back to rub a fingertip between the cheeks of his ass, pressing ever so slightly into himself. He wasn’t going to go again, but the pressure added the perfect finish to his post orgasmic haze.

“This was all probably pretty unusual for you, huh?”

Rafael paused the motion of his hand. He considered for only a moment before sighing. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt this one time, and assume this blundering attempt at interrogating me is because you’ve just had an orgasm. If this is your usual technique for trying to get information, you might want to consider another line of work.” The rebuke would be more stinging if it weren’t muttered sleepily against a pillow. “You want to know if I like to get fucked?” 

Carisi made a choked sort of stammering noise. Rafael didn’t know blushing was audible before now; he wondered if the flush of pink made it down to his stomach.

“Yes, Sonny, I like to get fucked.”

The stammering went from sounding just embarrassed to both embarrassed and shocked. At least Carisi managed to make something approaching intelligible words. "Oh, wow. I didn't think... I mean, you know..."

“Think very carefully about what you’re about to say,” he muttered, allowing just a note of warning to creep into his voice. He was enjoying himself, enjoying Carisi, and nothing would sour his mood more than hearing that him stammer out some sort of stereotype about what kind of man liked to bottom and how Rafael did or did not fit that stereotype. That kind of thing was never complimentary. “Would you like some time to regroup?”

“Uhh, you know… yeah, probably.”

Rafael huffed a laugh. “Goodnight, Sonny.”

“Yeah.” He could hear the smile in Carisi’s voice when he replied. “Night, Rafael.”

When Carisi had disconnected the call, Rafael looked at his phone and scrolled through the contacts until he found ‘Gerald – blond at beach’. He stared at the name for a moment before clicking on it and typing out a message.

‘It was great to meet you today. Sorry it’s so late, but I won’t be able to make it tonight. Hope you enjoy your trip.’

He deleted the contact and tossed his phone onto the night stand. The breeze blowing in off the ocean was rich with the scent of the Caribbean, and Rafael breathed deeply.

\---------

The next day while he was walking along the beach, he asked a woman sitting under an umbrella if she would take his picture and gave her his phone. He leaned down toward the lens, towel hanging over his shoulder, to give a big, wide smile.

He sent the photo to Carisi before tossing his phone onto his towel, pulling off his shirt, and wading into the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the Goo Goo Dolls' "Slide" (because I was 14 in 1998 and that shit is formative.)  
> Your comments and kudos give me a joy beyond describing. 
> 
> There may be a brief delay before the next chapter as I have to finish my Esparza Exchange piece, but I'll do my best to get it up in a timely manner! 
> 
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (In chapter four, Barba says he's 'close enough (to gay) to make no difference'. I know he has had relationships with women in the past, which I don't feel that precludes him from ambiguously choosing to identify as gay in his forties.)


	9. you don't need to sleep alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Nine Prompt: Anal Sex.  
> S16, E23 - Surrendering Noah.

It was just past one in the morning when Sonny knocked softly on Barba's door. He'd never come over this late before, but it was hardly a normal day. He was glad Barba had called, had been on his way to the car before they were off the phone. 

In truth he had considered going straight to Barba’s after leaving the hospital, but midnight felt too late, and he had been desperately in need of a shower. He didn’t want to show up at the other man’s house unannounced with blood on his clothes. Clean now, wearing a pair of jeans and a pull over hooded sweatshirt with his hair free of product, he felt suddenly under-dressed to see Barba.

Sonny’s fears proved unfounded when Barba opened the door, his own hair clearly still damp from a shower, wearing a pair of dark burgundy drawstring pajama pants and a fresh v-neck undershirt. A hint of his soft chest hair was just visible at the lowest point of his shirt collar, and his feet were bare. A few pieces of hair at the crown of his head were standing up in the wrong direction as they began to dry. The overall effect was shockingly intimate.

“Hey,” Sonny said, surprised at how tired and rough his voice sounded. His eyes were drawn to the front of Barba’s pants, the materiel leaving little of the size of him to the imagination. It was an effort to tear his gaze away.

“Hello,” Barba replied, stepping back to give Sonny room to enter. He looked tired, drawn, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual. Sonny wondered suddenly if Barba had ever seen anything like what had happened that day before – someone shot, someone killed. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing one prepared for as a lawyer. He had been so cool during the bloody aftermath in the courtroom, rushing to help the judge, checking on witnesses. Sonny could vividly recollect the blood on Barba’s hands. He looked at them now, dry and too clean, scrubbed to a brutal pink. 

“Hey,” Sonny said again, a little softer now. Rather than stepping past Barba and into the apartment he stepped into the other man’s personal space, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a warm embrace. This wasn’t something they did; hugging or kissing hello, and Barba tensed up in a way that made Sonny fear he had just made a mistake. Before he could correct it, however, the other man relaxed against him, huffing a soft sigh and curling an arm low around his back. 

Sonny laid his cheek again the top of Barba’s head and breathed the clean scent of his shampoo. He could feel Barba’s warm breath against his throat. “How you doing, Rafael?” he asked, and perhaps a little too gently, as Barba scoffed in reply.

“I’m fine,” he said, as though irritated to have even been asked, “although I think the shirt I wore to court today is a lost cause.” Sarcastic comments notwithstanding, Sonny didn’t fail to notice that Barba hadn’t pulled away, and was in fact resting his cheek on the front of Sonny’s shoulder, hand splayed across the small of his back. 

“Yikes,” Sonny gave Barba a squeeze, rubbing his hand in a small affectionate circle on his back. “That’s gotta set you back, what, five, six hundred bucks?” he teased, smiling as Barba pushed him away.

“Twice the cost of your entire wardrobe.” Though he was rolling his eyes, there was a smile playing around the corners of Barba’s mouth as he closed and locked the door. Sonny grinned and toed off his shoes. He was pleased whenever he got Barba to smile at one of his jokes, particularly if it was made at the other man’s expense. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Barba stepped into his kitchen. 

“You having anything?” he asked, following after him. Barba’s pajama pants hung low on his hips, and Sonny couldn’t help but admire how well the soft-looking cotton showed the shape of his ass. He briefly considered reaching out to touch him, but imagined Barba swatting his hands away and restrained himself.

“I just poured a scotch before you buzzed up.” Barba held up a rocks glass, filled with over three fingers of the amber spirits. 

“Yeah, sure then. You got any beer?” 

“There’s still some in the refrigerator from that six-pack you brought over the other day. Help yourself.” Barba gestured with his chin toward the refrigerator, leaning back on the counter near his kitchen window. Sonny liked the view of the classic wrought iron fire escape outside that window; like all of Barba’s apartment, it was picture perfect New York.

“Great, thanks.” He had left a few IPAs when he had been over earlier in the week, and retrieved one from the door of the fridge. He opened a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew with a bottle opener on the end, briefly noting how odd it was to have been in Barba’s apartment so often that he knew where to find things in his kitchen.

He tossed the bottle cap into the trash and leaned against the counter top beside the refrigerator, facing Barba. He took a long swallow of beer. The cold bitterness was refreshing and he sighed, satisfied. 

“How long ago did you leave the hospital?” Barba asked. “I didn’t get you out of bed?”

“Nah, no.” Sonny shook his head. “Honestly, I just left like a half hour before I got your text. Got home, took a shower, then came over here.”

“How’s Amaro?”

“He’s out of surgery, in recovery.” Sonny waggled his hand side-to-side in a ‘so-so’ motion, then seemed to think better of it. “I mean, he’s okay, you know? He’s alive, thank god, and his liver got hit so that’s not nothing. But he got hit in the knee, and that kind of thing… it can put you behind a desk for life, you know? They were done with his liver by the time I got there. Said the knee surgery went well, but there's only so much you can do there. He was awake when I left, but groggy. His ma and Rollins were still there.”

Barba quirked an eyebrow, sipping his scotch. "I'm surprised he was awake." 

"He was feeling no pain, that’s for sure,” Sonny said with a humorless sort of laugh. “He won't really know what's going on until tomorrow I think. He did good though, taking out Johnny D." 

"Very brave. Reckless." It didn’t sound like a compliment.

"What was he supposed to do, let the guy go free to leave a body count?” Sonny shrugged. “He's a cop. Any of us would have done the same thing; I would have." 

"Oh, that's a comforting thought." The other man’s voice was rich with sarcasm, his expressive face making it clear just how he felt about Sonny’s willingness to rush into the line of fire. Sonny just smiled.

"Aw, Rafael, I'm touched!" Sonny played off the little chill that went through him, Barba’s words forcing him to remember that it could have just as easily been him on the receiving end of gunshots, and the result could have been worse than what had happened to Nick. It was a daily reality, but he rarely thought about it, and worked to push the thoughts away now. It was easier to focus on Barba.

"If not wanting you to be shot is what passes for moving, I'm worried you might have cripplingly low self-esteem." 

"Yeah, I don't really think that one is a problem for me.” Sonny waggled his eyebrows, covering the momentary loss of nerves with a joke. “Also, you called me to come over at one in the morning, so..." 

"Don't push your luck.” Barba’s voice was dismissive, but by now he could recognize when the lawyer was teasing and when he was actually being an ass. “How is Judge Barth?" 

"She's fine. Clean entry and exit through her shoulder. Honestly I think she was more upset about the court officer than anything else. And offended by the disrespect to her courtroom." 

"That sounds about right," Barba replied with a dry chuckle.

"How about you?” Sonny asked, his voice turning a bit softer, more serious. “You doing okay?" 

"Nothing happened to me, Carisi.” Barba frowned.

"Yeah, but I mean, that was a lot today. You don't usually see something like that, that can mess you up." 

"I'm fine," Barba responded, too fast, his voice turned cold. He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow. "What about you? You were there." 

Sonny waved the comment away with a typical broad gesture. "That's different." 

"Because you're a detective?" Barba said, acerbically. 

"Well, yeah." He didn't think it was an unreasonable distinction; this sort of thing was covered in the training for his line of work. Not so much for Barba's. 

"And you've been through this sort of thing before.” Barba’s tone was becoming more and more derisive. “You’ve been in the line of fire.”

“Yeah.” Sonny nodded slowly, suddenly feeling a little less casual, and took a long pull from his beer. 

"Have you ever shot anyone?" 

"Wow." He frowned deeply and glanced at the empty scotch glass Barba had left sitting on the counter, wondering how many he'd had before Sonny had arrived. He didn't seem drunk, which in his mind confirmed that he was right and Barba was more affected by the day's events than he would care to admit. "You know that kind of question is considered really damn taboo, right Barba? I mean, this isn't a deposition. We're having a drink in your kitchen." 

Barba shrugged. "Have you?" 

"God. No, and I hope I never have to, alright?" Sonny straightened up to his full height, angered by how Barba kept pushing. He glanced back toward the door, struggling to remember just why he had dragged himself out of his apartment in the middle of the night.

"Have you fired your weapon?" 

“Yeah. In response to someone shooting at me and Rollins, yeah.” Sonny frowned and drained the last of his beer, setting the empty bottle down a little too hard. It clattered against the countertop. “Then I got held at gunpoint by a nineteen-year-old kid and spent two minutes positive I was gonna get killed.”

“The boys who kidnapped Raina Punjabi,” he said, remembering, and spent a moment observing Sonny’s reaction. "You were scared." 

"Yeah, I was scared! I thought was gonna die!" It wasn’t a memory he liked to revisit. It was the closest he’d ever come to being shot, and it had frightened him more than he had thought. His mouth tasted bitter, and not from the beer. He sucked in a breath to continue, but bit back the urge before he really started yelling. He exhaled slowly, deliberately evening out his tone and bringing down his volume. Barba was pissing him off, but he knew well enough to know deflecting when he saw it. "How about you? Were you scared today?" 

Barba shook his head dismissively. "It started and was over too fast to be scared." 

"Yeah, that's adrenaline,” Sonny snapped. “Then it wears off, and it all starts to get to you, and you call someone safe over to your place in the middle of the night and act like an asshole to them." 

Barba's mouth twisted into a sneer, but the cutting remark Sonny expected didn’t come. Instead, the silence stretched between them before Barba rubbed his hand over his mouth and sighed.

“You’re right.” Sonny’s eyebrows went up; it was rare for the other man to say he was right, and even rarer when that admission implied that he, Barba, had been wrong. “I’m sorry, Sonny. I don’t know why I said all that.”

Sonny let Barba's apology wash over him. He was briefly tempted to turn and walk out of the apartment regardless, but in the end he sighed, shaking his head.

“Because today was a fucked up day. It’s okay.” Sonny forgave easily even under bad circumstances. While he wasn’t in the mood to be anyone’s punching bag, he could understand what Barba was going through, and couldn’t bring himself to hold it against him. “You want to start over?”

“Please.”

“Sure.” Sonny leaned back against the counter, the defensiveness that had crept into his posture melting away. “So how you feeling?”

“A little more shaken up than I wanted to admit, I guess.” Barba cracked a depreciating sort of half smile that drove home his previous apology more than any words he could have spoken.

“Yeah, you’ll have that.” Sonny shot Barba a small, comforting smile. “Wouldn’t be human if it didn’t get to you a little bit.”

“You seem alright.”

“I just have coping skills.” Sonny’s eyes crinkled and his dimples stood out sharply as his smile grew. “I hide it better is all.”

Barba huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “Do you want another drink?”

“Maybe some water?”

Barba got opened a cabinet and pulled out two glasses. Sonny noticed for the first time that there was nothing on the top shelf of any of the ceiling-height cabinets, and realized that this was likely because Barba couldn’t reach them. At once, he decided that this was completely adorable, and best kept to himself. Somehow he didn’t think Barba would appreciate the observation. He restrained himself and merely thanked Barba for the water when he handed him a glass.

“So, what are these coping skills?” Barba asked, standing nearer to Sonny now. It was a more comfortable distance, friendly, if not quite intimate. “This is your chance to impart knowledge onto me.”

“Oh hell,” Sonny said at once, laughing. “Well now I’m put on the spot. I don’t know, desensitization and drinking?”

“You should have said so before we switched to water.” Barba actually laughed, well, chuckled at least. The small smile on his face was genuine, and that was enough to make Sonny feel as though he’d done his good deed for the day. A smile from Barba that wasn’t sarcastic was enough to make his heart flutter in his chest, of which he was not proud.

“Yeah, that’s my bad.” Sonny reached over and clinked his glass to Barba’s and took a sip. “Seriously, though. I don’t know, you just gotta get out of that moment. I mean, when you start thinking about it, you know? It can feel like it’s tight in your chest, and you get upset, that adrenaline coming back. You just gotta look around and really put yourself in back in the present. Focus on where you are and what you’re doing in that moment. Touch something, taste something, anything like that. Or just think about all the good things you’ve seen and done, I don’t know.”

Barba raised his eyebrows, clearly a bit surprised by the answer. “And where did you learn all this? Working on a third career as a psychologist?”

“Don’t get too impressed. Any time you discharge your weapon on duty or you’re involved in a shooting, they make you see a counselor.” Sonny shrugged. “Just a couple times, but they know the right stuff to tell you, and it helps I guess. I don’t know if I really needed it or anything, but it’s procedure.” He felt he had needed it, honestly, but he didn’t want to admit that to Barba in that moment, no matter how helpful it might have been.

“Makes sense. All of it.” Barba drained his glass in a few deep drinks, and Sonny did the same, setting the empty glass on the counter beside his beer bottle. “How are you? After today. I didn’t ask, before.”

“I’m okay, really. As good as can be expected. Wish we could have stopped it, reacted better, but that guy was a psycho. It’s not really the kind of thing you expect.” Sonny reached out and tugged lightly at the edge of Barba’s t-shirt’s sleeve, rolling his fingers over the hem. “How about you? Honestly.”

“Better now.” Barba deigned to give him a small smile. “I’m glad I called you.”

“Yeah?” Sonny grinned. “I’m gonna write that down. I’m gonna bring that up the next time you start busting my chops and rolling your eyes at me.”

“I’ll categorically deny it. You don’t have any evidence. It’s hearsay.” Barba’s smile had grown into a full on smirk. 

Sonny gave his sleeve a slightly more significant tug. “I wanna kiss you,” he said. He didn’t want to think any more about shootings, about Nick in the hospital or the court officer – he didn’t even know her name – lying dead in the morgue. He didn’t want to think about that day on the roof, staring down the barrel of a gun while some kid just out of high school told him he was going to be slaughtered. He wanted to think about Barba, to lose himself in the pleasures of his mouth and body; and he was pretty sure that’s what Barba wanted, too.

Barba’s gaze flickered between his eyes and his mouth. “I’ll allow it.” He leaned forward, almost imperceptibly, but it was all the invitation Sonny needed. He let go of the other man’s sleeve and instead took his arm, using it to gently pull him forward until he could slide his arms around his waist. He pulled him close, flush against him, and dipped his head to press his lips warmly to Barba’s.

Sonny kissed him slowly, sweetly, and for once Barba seemed content to let him set the pace. The energy of their argument was there between them, but every moment he spent drawing kisses from the other man's opening mouth caused it to fade, or at least withdraw to be dealt with another time, when their nerves were less raw and less in need of soothing. Sonny tasted scotch on Barba's lips and tongue. Over the past months of late night rendezvouses he had come to associate the peaty, rich flavor so entirely with the other man that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to taste it without thinking of him, even if they were never to kiss again. 

Of course, Sonny had no plans to stop kissing him.

Barba threaded his fingers up through the fluff of Sonny’s unstyled hair, and the younger man hummed in pleasure at the touch. Barba’s lips curled in a smile against his mouth, and Sonny gently rested his forehead against his, their breath still mingling.

“I didn’t invite you here to be an asshole to you,” Barba said. His fingers were still absently weaving through Sonny’s hair. “At least, not intentionally.”

“I figured,” Sonny tilted his chin and brushed another kiss over his mouth, affectionate and lazy, with no intent of stopping Barba’s talking.

“Would you like to go to bed?”

Sonny smiled, his hands sliding down to squeeze at the slight curve of Barba's solid hips. There was literally nothing he wanted more in that moment. "Yeah, alright. You still want to?" 

Barba only kissed him in reply, guiding their lips back together with his hand on the back of Sonny's head. This kiss was warmer than those that had preceded it, an offer of more, and Sonny's mouth opened welcomingly to the stroke of Barba's tongue. He tugged gently on Barba’s hips, pulling him just a little closer, and was rewarded with a pleased sound low in the other man’s throat. 

When they finally broke apart, Sonny followed him to his bedroom, a route he knew well by now. He pulled his hoodie off over his head as he went, dropping it carelessly on the floor. This time Sonny didn’t stop himself from reaching out and touching Barba, palming his ample ass with both hands, crowding up close behind him as they entered the still dark room. 

“God, you’re handsy,” Barba complained, even as he pressed back against Sonny’s hands and leaned his shoulders back against his chest.

“You like it.” He kissed warm and wet against Barba’s throat. As though to prove his point, he dragged his hands up from the other man’s ass, up under his shirt and along his sides, pulling the t-shirt up with him as he felt up along Barba’s soft belly. Eager now, he nuzzled his nose against the side of Barba’s neck before nibbling teasingly at his ear, coaxing. “C’mon. I wanna get you naked.”

“You have a real knack for stating the obvious.” Barba was still sarcastic, always, but his voice was pitched lower now. He rolled his head back onto Sonny’s shoulder, giving him better access to kiss at the column of his throat.

Sonny knew he wasn’t the only one affected by their making out in the kitchen, and rocked his hips against his ass, knowing he would be able to feel his growing erection even through his jeans. “Yeah, and you got a real knack for talking shit.” He was grinning, his complaints playful. He tugged at Barba’s shirt even as he continued to kiss and nip at his ear and neck. “How come you’re never nice to me, huh? You know I make you feel good.”

“You don’t think I’m nice?” Barba turned his head and caught his mouth in a kiss, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth in a way that made Sonny groan. He pushed his body back, grinding his ass onto Sonny’s lap in a way so suggestive that he thought for a moment his brain might short circuit. He only had time to roll his hips forward against Barba once before the shorter man was turning in his arms, reaching between them to unbutton Sonny’s jeans and tug down the zip. “You want me naked? Undress me, then.”

Sonny didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled the t-shirt up over Barba’s head and dropped it to the floor beside them. It was an effort not to hurry, to curb his eagerness to see all of Barba. He slid his hands down his sides, warm and slow, pulling to untie the drawstring of his tented pajama pants. “Love your body, Rafael,” he sighed, raking his eyes over him before dipping his head to kiss his shoulder, scrape his teeth over his collarbone. 

Barba’s hands were low on Sonny’s hips, fingers dipping down under his jeans where they hung loose and low. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he said, low and friendly, kneading the top of Sonny’s ass.

“Now who’s eager?” Sonny teased, even as he pushed Barba’s pajamas down over his hips. He was momentarily surprised that he wore nothing under them, but was distracted by the sight of the other man’s thick prick, heavy and hard between his legs. He licked his lips and gripped Barba’s soft waist. “Fuck,” he breathed.

“Still you, apparently.” Barba kissed him once, brief but dirty, disentangling and stepping further into his bedroom. He turned on the bedside lamp, filling the room with a soft glow before sitting back on his bed. His legs were spread wide, and he took his cock in his hand, giving it a lazy stroke. 

Sonny wanted to be the one doing that, to feel the weight and heat of Barba in his hand. He stripped out of his jeans and briefs as gracefully as he could manage, stepping on the toes of his socks to pull them off with the rest. He nearly stumbled, his feet briefly tangled, and kicked his clothes away. "You like that about me though, am I right?" He dropped to his knees in front of Barba, kissing the inside of one thigh and then the other.

"In certain applications." Barba let go of his penis, letting it hang flush and swollen in front of Sonny like ripe fruit. His fingers carded instead through Sonny's hair, not pushing or guiding his head, just resting there as a gentle, encouraging weight.

Sonny wrapped his hand around Barba's sex, relishing in the soft sound of pleasure that resulted in his first few easy strokes. His sighs turned to low moans as Sonny gripped the base of his shaft and bent to lick and kiss messily at the head. He rolled his tongue around him, his mouth as soft and wet as he could make it as he took him in, bobbing his head down, trying to make his lips meet his hand. He knew he didn't have the skill his lover had, wasn't able to take his big, thick dick down into his throat, but he took him greedily into his hands and mouth, as though he were desperate and could not help himself.

It wasn't far from the truth. 

"Yeah, that's good," Barba breathed, stroking Sonny's hair almost tenderly. He flexed his hips as Sonny bobbed his head. "That's right, Sonny, just like that... suck me, show me how much you like it."

Sonny moaned around Barba, his eyelids fluttering at the praise. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked and swallowed. The salty taste of Barba's pre-come was rich on his tongue, and he pumped his fist along Barba's length in time with the bobs of his head, hard and fast the way he knew the older man liked. 

He took his time, varying his pressure, speeding up and slowing down by turns. He wanted it to last, wanted to make the passing minutes stretch into hours. He never got tired of Barba in his mouth. He pulled off and dipped his head to lick and suck at his balls the way he always had wanted girls to do to him in the past. 

Barba seemed to appreciate it. He was breathing heavily now, reclining back on his elbows. He braced one foot flat on the on the mattress and canted his hips up. Sonny dipped his head and bit playfully at the curve of Barba’s ass, now more exposed to him, and the other man hissed a sound of approval. He shifted and brought his hand back to Sonny’s head, stroking through his hair once more.

“Do you still want to fuck me, Sonny?” Barba’s words were quiet and thick with arousal, spoken like question to which he clearly already knew the answer. It was an offer, not an inquiry.

The words went straight through Sonny to where his erection stood hard and untouched between his legs. He groaned and pressed his cheek to the inside of Barba’s thigh. They hadn’t spoken about it since the night on the phone when Barba was in St. Barth’s, but it hadn’t been far from Sonny’s mind. He had repeatedly deleted his browser’s search history as he looked up articles and essays on how to do it and how to do it well. There had been far more resources for first-time bottoms, and he had read those as well, though they had only made him more nervous. He had consumed an embarrassing amount of gay pornography, trying to focus on technique, but usually ended up distracted by the idea of doing _that_ with Barba. He would jerk off instead, which was always enjoyable, though not as helpful as he would have liked.

Once he had come and the overwhelming flush of his desire for Barba had momentarily cooled, other fears would creep into his mind. Not just that he wouldn’t know how to do it properly, but that he wouldn’t like it. At least, that he wouldn’t like it as much as fucking a woman. Sonny knew that it felt like heaven to be inside a girl, wet and soft and perfect. It was meant to be perfect. He worried that despite all his lust for Barba, unquenchable as it was, it wouldn’t feel as good. Or worse, that it would be too strange and different, that it would drive home the truth of his same-sex attraction in a way he wasn’t ready to deal with, and Barba would see it on his face.

None of that mattered now, however, in this moment when Barba was clearly offering and Sonny wanted him so badly he felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah, fuck, yes,” Sonny gasped, and kissed wetly at the inside of his thigh. 

Barba raised his other knee, his heels firm on the bed. “How badly do you want it?”

Sonny gave the older man one more firm stroke before gripping the back of his thighs just above the knee. He pushed up, spreading Barba’s legs further and lifting his ass. “Hold your legs up,” he urged. Barba did as he asked without complaint, reclining back and pulling his knees up. Sonny palmed his round ass and groaned as he revealed the pink puckered hole. “God,” he moaned, barely knowing he had spoken. Any fear that he wouldn’t be able to do this was gone, the sight so inviting he knew he had to put his mouth on it. 

He went in with enthusiasm, the same way he did everything. Broad strokes of his tongue, humming at the clean taste of Barba’s skin. He dug his fingers into the meat of his ass, spreading him just a little further, and circling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. It was easier than he thought it would be to lick Barba open, stroking his tongue into him, working it in and out as Barba sighed and moaned above him, murmuring broken snippets of praise.

“That’s right, fuck… yes, good- yes, like that... fuuuck…” He lifted his hips, opening up to Sonny’s mouth. “Put your tongue inside me – oh, fuck, yes, god, good, good boy…”

Sonny groaned against him, prodding his tongue past the tight ring, feeling Barba relax for him. He lifted his hand to his mouth, licking and sucking his index finger, getting it slick with spit. He brought his tongue back to Barba’s asshole, curling his tongue inside him even as he began to stroke him with little circles. 

“There’s lube in the nightstand, second drawer,” Barba panted, when Sonny had one finger screwed all the way into him, thrusting shallowly back and forth. Barba was soft and open, but Sonny wouldn’t have wanted to go farther without something more than spit to slick his way. He licked at Barba again, slow and tender, before withdrawing. He jerked the drawer open with enough force to rattle the lamp and muttered a sheepish apology as he retrieved the bottle of lubricant and a strip of condoms. He lacked the patience to separate one from the rest. 

While he rummaged in the nightstand, Barba had moved to the center of the bed, turning on to his knees and elbows, his plump and tempting ass in the air. Sonny could see where Barba was open and spit-slick from his mouth and hand. It was so erotic it made his head swim, and he pressed the palm of his hand hard against the base of his cock. He couldn’t resist going back to him again, thrusting his tongue past the clench of muscle, lapping at him with slow swipes of his tongue until Barba was moaning, arching his back and tilting his ass up toward Sonny’s mouth. 

He leaned back and drizzled a stream of lube onto Barba’s pink, open ass. The other man flinched at the cold, clenching for a moment before leaning back on his heels. “Sorry,” Sonny said, rubbing his fingers together in an attempt to warm the silicone slick as he liberally coated two fingers. He rubbed his calloused fingertips in slow circles over his entrance before slowly, carefully pushing them inside. He groaned out loud, the sound almost louder than the one Barba made.

He felt incredible. Smooth, tight, and impossibly hot. The way he squeezed around his fingers made him throb and ache. The idea that he could be inside Barba, that he could sink into this tight heat, was almost more than he could stand. After a few strokes, he remembered to curl his fingers, searching deep inside until he found the spot that made Barba huff out a sharp breath and moan.

“Fuck, yes, right there, good, good…” Barba rocked back against Sonny’s hand as Sonny worked his fingertips in a circle against his prostate. “I’m ready,” he gasped, surprising Sonny. “I don’t need this much prep, I’m ready.” He rocked forward and then back again, fucking himself onto Sonny’s fingers as though to prove his point.

“Okay,” Sonny nodded, licking his lips, nerves suddenly rearing back up. He slid his fingers in and out of Barba again before sliding them completely out, carefully. Barba huffed a breath at the emptiness and rocked back, his head handing down between tense shoulders.

Sonny stroked himself with the hand slick with lube before tearing a condom off the strip and rolling it on. He grabbed up the bottle and poured more lube into his hand, coating the outside of the condom with it, making sure he was slippery as he could be. Lots of lube was important, that was the one thing every website said. The wetter the better.

“You sure you want me to do this?” he asked, eyes drinking in the sight of Barba on elbows and knees, face flushed and skin slick with sweat, clean hair standing up at odd angles. 

“Are you sure you want to?” Barba looked at him over his shoulder. His voice was kind and gentle, offering him a clear out, even though the heavy desire in his tone, in his eyes. “We don’t have to.”

Looking into Barba’s green eyes, gentle and kind in this unguarded moment, Sonny’s worries dissolved. “Yeah,” he said, and then echoed. “Yeah, I’m sure. But… can you turn over?” 

“Yes…” Barba said slowly, his voice more question than answer. 

“I want to look at you.” Sonny felt the need to offer an explanation. “I want to be able to see your face, and to kiss you, and… and stuff like that.” The words sounded foolish once they were out of his mouth, and he trailed off at the end, hedging. 

Barba didn’t laugh, or roll his eyes, or exhibit any of the other signs of derision that Sonny had been sure would follow his sentimental request. Instead, he straightened up on his knees, stacking a pair of fat pillows at the head of his bed and grabbing another. He turned, his head and shoulders against the pillows as he slid the other under his hips. He curled his hands back under his knees, pulling them up toward his chest. 

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” he asked, softly. All the acid was gone from his voice, leaving only sweet invitation, and one that Sonny could not refuse.

He climbed up over Barba’s body, bracing himself on one elbow as he cupped the other man’s face in his hand, sucking deep, hungry kisses from his lips. He licked into his mouth with the same fervor that he had licked into his body, thrusting his hips blindly against his ass, sliding between his cheeks.

“Come on,” Barba said against his mouth, lifting his chin to maintain their kiss, his words practically swallowed by Sonny. “Come on, come on. Fuck me, Sonny, don’t make me wait. Show me how good you can be.”

It was shameful how easily Barba could goad him, turning his crank with a few easy words. Sonny knew he Barba had read him like a book, that his words were wielded as deliberate weapons, but none of that made any difference when he was pressed against his body, bracketed by his thighs. He moaned into Barba’s mouth and reached between their bodies, taking hold of his prick and dragging it back and forth across Barba’s ass. 

“Come on, do it,” Barba said again, one hand leaving the back of his own leg to grip at Sonny’s hip, pulling him closer, urging him on. “I – oh, fuck, god, yes-!”

The last word was expelled as a hiss as Sonny rolled his hips and slid into Barba in one smooth, slow stroke. “Fuck, Rafael...!”

He was tighter than anything Sonny had ever felt, tighter than his fingers inside him had felt, and hot enough to be housing a furnace. The first half of his thrust was like being gripped in a vice, only to bottom out into smooth endless heat, open and accepting. He groaned, low and loud and long, pushing his face down against Barba’s neck. He rocked his hips forward, slow and gentle, not yet pulling out.

“Is that – is that good, can I-…?” He drew his head back, pupils blown and mouth hanging open, to look down at Barba under him. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were closed, lower lip pulled between his teeth. He opened his eyes to look up at Sonny, the green overtaken by the black of his pupils. 

Barba’s hand left Sonny’s hip to curl around the back of his neck and up into his short hair. He rolled his hips under Sonny, causing such a wave of pleasure that Sonny’s eyelids fluttered. “Do it,” Barba said. And Sonny did.

“God, that’s good, that’s so good, you feel so good…” Sonny babbled as he began to move, thrusting slowly but deeply in and out of Barba’s willing, open body. He spent long minutes savoring the feel of that wet, tight heat, the easy, slow pace they were able to set. Had he been able to think clearly, he would have wondered how he could ever have thought this wouldn’t be the best thing he had ever felt. Barba rolled his hips with each thrust, drawing Sonny deeper inside. 

Sonny realized he was saying Rafael’s name over and over, whispering it into his mouth between desperate kisses.

Soon the movement of Barba’s hips picked up tempo, and Sonny found his own thrusts increasing in speed to keep up with him. “Faster,” Barba finally said, when apparently his movements alone were not enough to get what he wanted. And then again, “Faster,” and, “Harder.”

Sonny hesitated only a moment before he leaned forward, bracing himself on his elbows and picking up the pace and power of his thrusts. It wasn’t hard, giving in to what his body wanted to do anyway. He had worried about hurting Barba, still worried about it, but the feel of thrusting powerfully into him was too good to resist. 

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Barba hissed, his hand curling into a fist and tugging Sonny’s hair, pulling him down and kissing him wantonly, his mouth open, his tongue curling up. His other hand released his own leg, no longer needing to hold them now that Sonny was seated so solidly between his thighs, and used it to paw at Sonny’s ass, gripping him and urging him on. He broke the kiss to moan against his mouth. “Up, angle up, toward my – yes, fuck, _yes_ , right there, right there… harder, come on, come _on_ , harder… oh, fuck, Sonny, right there.”

Sonny angled his hips up, and knew he was hitting Barba’s prostate by the breathy sounds the other man had begun to make, and the way his hips stuttered as he thrust them up to meet Sonny. He was fucking Barba hard into the mattress. He had never been this forceful with anyone, but he had seen the rough way Barba jerked himself when they were together, and as long as Barba was gasping _'harder'_ , he was going to do it harder. 

“Like that, Rafael? Is that good, do you…?” Sonny looked down at Barba, at his drawn brow and his slack mouth, the flush high on his cheeks and the dew on his forehead. Sonny’s own hair was curling with sweat from his exertions, but it felt so good he was barely aware.

“Fuck, yes, I do, I do, it’s good. Fuck, Sonny, just like that, hard like that, fuck, good boy, such a good boy, fuck, _fuck_!” Barba’s body arched and he clenched down around Sonny like a vice. A hoarse cry escaped his throat as he came, untouched, between them, with stripes of hot come across their bellies. 

Sonny moaned aloud as Barba came, fucking him hard to ride out his orgasm. He had to bite down on the inside of his own lip to keep from coming from the knowledge that Barba could come just from Sonny inside him. Finally, Barba sagged beneath him, letting out a long breath and dropping his head back against the pillows behind him. 

His hands were on Sonny then, stroking his face, his hair, his shoulders. “Come on,” he murmured, his voice sweet now instead of urgent. “Come on, baby. You did so good, just let go. Come on.”

A few gentle touches, a few sweet words, and Sonny was undone. He claimed Barba’s mouth in a searing kiss, jerked his hips forward in a few rough thrusts, and came. 

He lay against Barba afterward, rolled onto his side, breathing raggedly against his shoulder. He had maintained his composure long enough to strip off the condom and toss it in the wastepaper basket beside the bed. He settled a hand heavy on Barba’s hip, stroking in small circles with his thumb.

“You okay?” he asked, his accent thick and slurred from exhaustion, though the concern in his voice was still clear. 

“Fine. Perfect.” Barba’s voice was similarly lazy with sleep, sated and low. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” Sonny murmured, nuzzling against Barba’s shoulder more than he would usually dare. He felt emboldened by the intimacy of what they had just shared, and slow from pleasure. “Wasn’t too rough?”

“No, just right,” Barba said, moving with a small groan of effort. He turned his back to Sonny but didn’t pull away. He pushed up on one elbow and grabbed a water bottle from the bedside table, unscrewing the top and guzzling greedily. He did not wait to be asked, passing the bottle to Sonny when it was half empty. 

Sonny pulled himself weakly to a sitting position, taking the bottle with a quiet, “Thanks.” He drank down what remained before tossing the empty into the same trash bin where he had disposed of the condom. 

“It’s late,” Barba murmured into his pillow as he settled back down into the bed, tugging at his duvet to pull it over up to his waist, not bothering to hunt out his pajamas from the floor.

Sonny swung his feet down off the side of the bed, his thighs aching from the workout he had just put them through. “Yeah,” he agreed, the word turning into a yawn that he covered with the back of his hand. “Let me just find my clothes and get outta your hair.”

“No, I mean, it’s late.”

Sonny blinked and looked back over his shoulder at Barba. His eyes were closed, his expression sleepy and relaxed where his cheek rest against the pillow. Sonny thought how pretty he looked. “What…?”

“It’s late,” Barba said again. “You should just sleep here.”

Barba spoke the words so casually, like they were nothing. To Sonny, they echoed like gunshots. They had been fooling around for months now, but every night when they were done, Sonny got dressed and went home to his place in Washington Heights. He had never slept here, had never been invited to stay. His heart picked up, beating a quick rhythm against his rib cage. He had gone from exhausted to wide awake in only a moment.

“You sure?” he asked, slowly, hesitantly, as though his words would break whatever spell had been cast that caused Barba to act as if this were no big deal.

“Turn out the light and go to sleep, Sonny.” Barba tugged the light duvet higher up his body.

Sonny, not needing to be told a third time, clicked out the light at once. He turned down the bedding and slid underneath, moving carefully, trying not to disturb Barba, though the other man was clearly still awake. Sonny considered a long moment before pushing his pillow toward the center of the bed. He scooted in close behind Barba, wrapping one arm loose around the other man’s waist. He knew that if anything was going to cause Barba to spring out of bed and order him out of the apartment it was this, but it didn’t feel right to Sonny to stay after they had made love and not hold him as they went to sleep.

Sonny was too elated by the fact that Barba simply settled sleepily into his arms to analyze the fact that he thought of what they had just done as making love. In only a few minutes, his breathing had slowed to match the same even rhythm as Barba’s, and he was fast asleep.

\------------

The following morning, Barba gave him a toothbrush still in its packaging from his most recent dental exam. He made coffee and they drank it together at Barba’s legal brief covered dining room table, eating slices of a slightly stale sour cream coffee cake Barba had bought earlier in the week from Levain Bakery. It was easy, comfortable, and natural.

They didn’t talk about the fact that it was the first time Sonny had spent the night. He watched as Barba leafed through the pages of the New York Times, having surrendered the Editorial section to Sonny. Barba's hair was still sticking up in the back, and as far as Sonny could tell, he didn't seem to mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Elbow's "Fallen Angel".  
> This song was featured in the film 9 Songs.
> 
> Okay, so, this chapter gave me a LOT of trouble! Between real life drama (I really hate my job, you guys) and general writer's block, this really was rough for me. Big thanks to GreyGerbil who ALWAYS helps me get through with encouragement and advice and has been this fic's greatest contributor since the beginning, and to my new (but VERY enthusiastic) cheerleader DenaCeleste, who helped me get over my very low moment of writer's block on this one.
> 
> I promise to TRY not to have this long of a gap again! Everyone who has sent me comments and asks on tumblr and kudos.... you guys are amazing. You make my life so much better, you have no idea. I love you all!
> 
> My usual plea!:  
> Canon compliance is vital to me. If you notice a place where I've deviated from the established canon, be it an incorrect name, a character in a scene they shouldn't be in, or a confused backstory detail, please feel free to let me know. (In chapter four, Barba says he's 'close enough (to gay) to make no difference'. I know he has had relationships with women in the past, which I don't feel that precludes him from ambiguously choosing to identify as gay in his forties.)


	10. such boundless pleasure (there's no time for later)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Ten Prompt: Coming on face.  
> S17, E1/E2 - Devil's Dissections/Criminal Pathology.

Rafael was in a panic. 

He was supposed to be, at this very moment, defending his thesis. It was the last thing standing between him the completion of his bachelor's degree, which was all that was standing between him and Harvard Law. The LSATs were done, he had been accepted to law school on a scholarship pending only his completion of his undergraduate degree, but he wasn't ready. 

He didn't know how the date had come up upon him so fast. He had labored over this work ( _The Media, The Innocent, and the Public: A Nuanced Look at Exonerations and Public Opinion of the Death Penalty_ ) but as he stood before a terrifying and faceless panel of professors, each of their fanged mouths posed to question him with acid tongues, he couldn't remember a thing about it. 

He looked down at his shaking hands, holding what should be pages of notes defending each and every thought he had put to paper, but he wasn't able to read a word. The characters weren't English, or Spanish, but creeping ants that shifted and distorted as he tried to read them. He couldn't make sense of it, and when he closed his eyes in an attempt to recall so much as the main crux of his work, his mind was blank. Nothing but a sinking terror that he had come to this point so unprepared. Everything he had worked toward, a future he had so carefully crafted, crumbling around him before it had a chance to begin. 

He tried to speak, but choked on his own words, and the panel laughed mockingly, twisted shadows looming behind them. He could feel his breathing getting faster as panic took hold. He fumbled over the most basic arguments, sounding stupid even to himself. Every time he lunged, they parried, and there was nothing he could do. He lurched backward, desperate to retreat, the useless pages of gibberish falling from his grip. 

A warm hand on his shoulder steadied him. When he turned, he was faced with the bluest eyes he had ever seen, kind eyes, and a warm, easygoing smile, framed by deep dimples. A tall, beautiful boy was standing there, like he didn't have a care in the world, and his hand on Rafael's shoulder was all that was keeping him together. 

"Hey," he said, and held out a carefully bound stack of papers to Rafael. "You were looking for this, right?" 

He looked at the papers as he took them, and felt an instant flood of relief. It was his thesis, perfect, complete, and fully annotated. All his arguments and reasoning came back to him in a rush, as though six months' worth of studying and preparation were completed in that moment. "Thank you," he gasped, smiling so broadly he felt he might break his cheeks. "I had forgotten..." 

The blue-eyed boy cupped his face, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones. He was so close now, tilting Rafael's face up toward his own as he leaned in. "See? Nothing to worry about. I knew you had this one locked down, counselor..." 

Just before their lips touched, a distant alarm bell began to sound. It's ringing grew louder, more insistent, until the piercing clangor was impossible to ignore. 

Rafael jolted awake in the darkness of his bedroom and reached a hand out, groping at his bedside table until he found his cell phone, fumbling to answer without seeing who was calling. 

"Yeah? What?" 

"Barba?" Carisi's accent was unmistakable even in his current state. "We got something - we got Rudnick. You gotta get down here." 

"Sonny?" He voice was thick with sleep, his mind still clouded from his nightmare. The hand that wasn't holding the phone reached into the empty space beside him, for a moment expecting to find Carisi there. He drew the hand back sharply and scrubbed it over his face. 

"Yeah," Carisi responded, warmly, sounding far too pleased. Rafael realized too late that he called the other man by his first name, thus the smile in his voice. "Sorry I woke you." 

"No, it's fine, sorry, I was just..." He sat up, knuckling at his eyes again, huffing out a breath. "Okay. Sorry. You have something?" 

"Yeah, a recording. You gotta see this, counselor." 

"Okay." Barba squinted at his clock and frowned. "It's past three in the morning." 

"I know," Carisi said, somehow managing to sound both apologetic and excited at the same time. "Trust me, you're gonna be glad you got up for this one. Come on, we got coffee on." 

"Okay," Rafael said, and then again. "Okay. I'll be there in thirty minutes." 

\--- 

Rafael walked into the dim precinct at 3:45 in the morning. While the lower levels of the building had been a bit more awake with the typical activity of beat cops at night, the floor occupied by SVU was quiet. Save for a couple of uniforms at the front desk who nodded when he exited the elevator, there were only Carisi and Rollins, looking rumpled but alert, on either side of a conference table that contained the cold scraps of a pepperoni pizza and a few scattered files. It was eerie, unsettling, to see a place usually so full of activity empty and quiet. Or maybe he was just on edge because he was exhausted and his stress levels were beyond high, even for him.

Rollins was the first to notice him, looking up from the notes she was scribbling as soon as he came around the corner. Carisi was focused on typing on a laptop, through the headphones he wore were plugged into his tablet. Rafael assumed he was transcribing something. 

"Counselor," Rollins said, standing. That was enough to get Carisi's attention; he looked up, serious expression melting to a grin when their eyes met. Carisi's face was an open book, his delight at seeing him was so obvious and easy to read that sometimes Rafael wondered how they had managed to keep their involvement quiet. These people were all detectives, after all. He briefly wondered if any trace of affection showed on his face when he saw Carisi, any flash of attraction or a little too much familiarity. He liked to believe he kept their professional relationship and their sexual relationship entirely separate, but seeing him sitting there, Rafael felt a brief flush of pleasure. It only served to annoy him further.

Thankfully, Rollins wasn't looking at Carisi. She was looking at Rafael, but was apparently more interested in what he was wearing than whatever was or wasn't showing on his face. She cocked her head ever so slightly to the side. "No offense, Barba, but every time I see you in casual clothes it's like seeing a dog walking on its hind legs. It's just weird." 

Rafael hadn’t bothered to put on a suit before coming to the precinct in the middle of the night. He privately thought they were lucky he had bothered to change from his pajamas into jeans and a sweater pulled on over a button up shirt, but that was just the irritability that came with being awake when he didn't want to be. The one cup of lukewarm coffee he had bolted down at home had done nothing to improve his mood, which wasn't exactly good recently to begin with. He was also reasonably confident that even in casual clothes, he was better dressed than either of the detectives. 

"Did you just say 'no offense' before comparing me to a dog, detective?" He arched an eyebrow, giving her the sort of pointed look that had caused so many people to wither in front of him. 

"I like dogs," she said, unfazed by his glare. He was either too tired to intimidate properly or his effectiveness was starting to wane with the SVU detectives. He has been too nice to them recently, before this case anyway. He would blame Carisi for his overall improved mood, except that he was sure the younger man would confuse his admonishment for praise and be pleased. 

Rollins was still inspecting his clothes, a grin playing at the corners of her mouth. "Are those Prada jeans?" 

They were Armani, but he knew that pointing out the difference would only be further ammunition for her to tease him. Apparently sleep deprivation had caused her to believe they had a 'teasing' relationship. He stared at her with a deadpan expression. "If you called me down here in the middle of the night to discuss my clothes, I'll find something I can indict you for." He helped himself to the coffee that Carisi had promised on the phone. It was hot, which was more than could be said for the cup he'd had before leaving the house. Rafael always saved a cup of coffee from the previous day to drink first thing in the morning. He needed to drink a cup of coffee before he could handle making coffee.

He wasn't in the mood for teasing. He hadn't been in the mood for anything resembling fun since Carl Rudnick had skipped his bail; hell, well before that. The possibility of more Yates victims had been bad enough, but the idea that their Deputy Chief Medical Examiner was a serial killer, who had been falsifying reports, lying about his results, lying on the stand, that was a real nightmare. So many of his convictions were going to be called into question; people whose guilt was undeniable suddenly had the chance to be granted new trials. Time and distance rarely made cases easier to win, and victims' feeling of betrayal at having to go through the process all over again never made them better witnesses.

The district attorney, the mayor, the governor - they were all calling his office, hounding him, demanding answers and results that would cause the city of New York the least amount of embarrassment, while getting the harshest conviction possible, and getting justice for the victims. Oh, and if he could also try to keep the entire affair out of the press, that would be ideal. Meanwhile reporters were sticking cameras and microphones in his face, inundating Carmen with calls and messages, and even managing to get a handful of calls through to his personal cell. While he may not admit it so candidly to others, Rafael wouldn't lie to himself by claiming he didn't like to get his name and face in the paper. He wouldn't be an ADA forever, and a solid history of positive press would only be helpful as he sought advance. 

This was not positive press. 

And if his performance today was any indication, the headlines were only going to be getting worse. Nearly a two-hour cross examination of Rudnick, and he hadn't managed to land a significant blow. Rudnick was too glib and too smooth, his story expertly rehearsed with Calhoun and Buchannan. He gritted his teeth as he recalled the courtroom theatrics Rudnick and Calhoun had engaged in, their fantastical version of how Susie Frain was killed in self-defense. Rudnick had missed his calling as an actor, the way he quivered and trembled as though reliving a terrible trauma. 

Rafael wondered if Rita was fooled. He doubted it; unlike the jury, she saw all the damning evidence against him on all three cases. They had worked on the same side out of the same offices for many years, he knew she had picked up some of that flair for dramatic exhibitions from him. She had to know her client, like so many others, was guilty. He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, doing what she did. Everyone was entitled to a good defense, but he wouldn't be the one to give it to them.

He never wondered how Buchannan lived with the guilt. He was convinced the man had no soul.

“Relax, counselor, you’re going to be glad you came down.” Carisi stood, picking up his tablet and pulling his headphones out of the audio jack. “We got video of Rudnick, and it’s good. Like, basically a confession. I told you, he talks to himself.”

“Video? From an autopsy?” To Rafael’s knowledge, the autopsies were audio recordings only.

“No, it's not from the morgue.” Carisi’s blue eyes were sparkling. Rafael recalled seeing them in his dream. “You’re not gonna believe this.” 

Carisi started a video, and Rafael was surprised to see himself on the screen. As soon as the playback began, he recalled the conversation. He had been part of it, there was nothing incriminating here. Confused, he glanced at Carisi, who only pointed at the tablet, a clear instruction to keep watching. 

On the screen, Rudnick was sitting at a large conference table, speaking with Benson and Rafael.

 _“Given the change in tenor of this conversation, I'm contacting my lawyer. I'd like to exercise that right.”_ Rudnick pulled out his phone and began texting.

 _“Feel free.”_ Rafael watched himself stand as Benson shut her case file. _“We will wait to continue questioning you until a lawyer arrives.”_

Once he and Benson had left the room, Rudnick stood and began a meandering sort of pacing, dragging his fingertips along the backs of chairs.

 _“They can't pin these on you. Rachel was a crack whore... And with the green nail polish and the proximity to Yates' victims… that's far too much reasonable doubt.”_ Rudnick was rubbing his temple, musing. _“And Lena, nobody will buy Yates' word. And my only risk there is Susie. She's dumb as a post, but she still can put two and two together. And if she does…”_

 _“I suppose I'll have to kill her just like the others.”_ Rudnick seated himself again, hands gripping the armrests a little too hard. _“Kill them all, Carl Whatever it takes.”_

Rudnick looked up when the door opened again and Rita Calhoun entered, followed by Benson, and him. _“Rita, it's very good of you to come on such short notice.”_

_“Of course, Carl, but I’m afraid I have bad news…”_

Carisi stopped the playback, cutting off Rita, and at once began speaking excitedly. “I’ve watched this probably twenty times since I called you. You tell him he’s being recorded as soon as you walk in the room, and you and the Sarge stop questioning him and leave the minute he asks for counsel, so you got no Miranda issues. And I double checked the files you gave the Sarge, and this is listed in the materials you handed over to Calhoun, so there’s no Brady problem either. There’s no way this gets ruled inadmissible, am I right, counselor?”

“Seldom,” Rafael said, though it lacked any bite. He was too busy trying to beat down the euphoria that was suddenly fluttering in his chest. He took the tablet from Carisi, backing it up and listening to Rudnick’s speech again. He could feel the smile spreading over his face, his fear of hubris not strong enough to keep it at bay. 

“You’re sure,” he asked, looking up at Carisi and repeating himself for emphasis, “You’re sure that this was turned over to the defense?” 

“Positive,” Carisi said, grinning. “Come on Barba. How good do we look to you right now, huh?”

“That depends,” Rafael said, setting down the tablet. “Let me see the paper trail that backs up the chain of custody and I’ll go from there.”

“Yeah, okay if I leave that to you, Carisi?” Rollins picked up her jacket and shrugged it on. “Frannie is probably havin’ a fit at me being out this late.”

“Yeah, go ahead, Rollins. I’ll help out here and then catch a couple hours in the crib, I got a clean shirt in my locker so I’ll be alright for tomorrow.” Carisi clapped Amanda on the shoulder before turning and spreading out paperwork on the long table. Everything was already in order, which told Rafael that Carisi had known he would ask to see it. He appreciated him thinking ahead to the legal angle as opposed to just throwing evidence at him and expecting him to make it work.

“Thanks. You good, counselor? Need anything else from me?” It was clear Rollins was tired, but she did Rafael the courtesy of waiting for his reply rather than sprinting out the door as she asked.

“Nothing that can’t wait until morning,” he replied.

“Great, thanks.” She turned to go, calling back over her shoulder as she went. “Like the jeans, Barba.”

Rafael rolled his eyes with such force that it was necessary to turn his face up toward the ceiling. 

Ten minutes of looking over the paperwork Carisi had organized in front of him was enough to tell Rafael that this evidence was airtight. There was no way Bertuccio was going to throw this tape out, and there was no chance the jury would acquit once they had seen it, no matter how good an actor Rudnick may be. With only moderate promises in regard to sentencing, he wouldn’t even have to reduce the charge to get a plea. 

The hardest part would be keeping the smirk off his face when he showed this to Rita and Buchanan. 

“So,” Carisi said, leaning back in his seat once Rafael was satisfied with the evidence. “Come on. How good do I look to you right now?”

Rafael studied the younger man for a long moment. He was cocky, for once, and far too proud of himself. However, considering that he had just presented the case to Rafael wrapped in a bow, he couldn’t bring himself to be too worked up. Carisi deserved to strut and puff out his chest a little, this once.

“Is there somewhere quiet and private I can go over all this and work on my motion? I’d rather get it done now than go home, change, and go to the office.” His back to the uniformed officers at the front desk, who were paying no attention to them anyway, Rafael arched one eyebrow.

Carisi seemed to take his meaning at once, because he beamed, suddenly not looking nearly so tired. “Yeah,” he said, standing and gathering Rafael’s files together into a box. “Yeah, I can get you set up somewhere. Come on.” 

Rafael followed Carisi as he went up a flight of stairs two steps at a time, around a corner, and into a part of the precinct that he had never seen. Shifting the file box onto his hip, Carisi carefully cracked open the door to a dark room and peered inside before opening the door the rest of the way and entering the room. He flipped on a dim light, revealing a small room filled with cots, some singles and some double bunks along the walls. All the cots were empty.

Carisi shut the door behind Barba and set the box down on one of the bunks. “This something like you had in mind?”

“Presumptuous of you,” Rafael said. He waited only for a brief flicker of uncertainty to cross Carisi’s features before he closed the space between them, crowding him up against the wall beside the door, and pulling him in by the tie. He claimed his mouth in a searing kiss.

Rafael felt as though a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. When he went to bed five hours ago, he had been afraid he was going to lose this case, that his luck had gone wrong at every turn and despite his best efforts, nothing he did was going to salvage it. Or his career and reputation. That fear was gone now, and it was Carisi who had cracked the case. Who had thought of Rudnick’s talking, who had suggested going over the recordings, who had traced back the chain of evidence. Carisi, whose mouth opened so invitingly to his. Carisi, whose lean, strong body was pressed up against him. Carisi, who he kissed like he had been waiting to do it for weeks.

"I guess that means I look pretty good to you, huh?" Carisi grinned when they finally came apart for air. His plush lips were kiss-bruised, and his strong hands settled on Rafael's hips, holding his body close against him. Rafael only now realized just how he had missed this. He had grown accustomed to it, to Carisi's mouth and his body, to his presence warm in bed beside him. Busy as they were, two or three times a week Carisi was at his apartment, and now usually overnight. Sometimes they went out for dinner, once or twice had even seen a movie or a show, but if they didn't have time for all that, Carisi would show up around ten or eleven, they would have a drink (or not) before falling into bed. As often as not he spent the night, up early in the morning and turning on the coffee before he left to go home to his own place to shower and change before work.

Since this case had gone so rapidly sour, however, Rafael had been in far too foul a mood to consider company. Carisi had called him one night, late, while leaving the precinct, and asked if he should come by. He said Rafael was clearly under a lot of stress and that he could take his mind off it for a while. It was a nice offer, and usually would have been tempting, but he had snapped at the time. Told Carisi that if he had enough free time to chase him around, maybe he could be out getting evidence to win this damn case. He felt guilty for it now, it didn't seem that the detective held it against him. That was one of the best things about their arrangement. They both knew the workload, the pressure, the burden and demand of the job. The only thing he was holding right now was Rafael, grinding slowly against him in a way that made Rafael think that the near two week stretch since they had been together had not gone unnoticed by his young lover. 

"Can you lock that door?" Rafael asked in return, jerking his chin toward the door that Carisi's back was pressed against. Carisi immediately reached back and threw the door's deadbolt with a solid click. Rafael smirked and lifted his chin, kissing Carisi again, catching his lower lip between his teeth and giving it a tug, just enough to make Carisi suck in a sharp breath and grip him a little tighter. Rafael released him and smiled against his mouth. "Yeah, you look damn good to me right now, Sonny."

"If I had known this would be the result, I would have been working even harder to get this thing cracked." Carisi dipped his head and kissed warmly at his neck. Rafael appreciated that he was always careful there never to leave a mark where it might show above the collar. His teeth and kisses occasionally left bruises other places, Rafael's chest, his shoulders, his thighs. Rafael would always roll his eyes later and call him an animal, but Carisi took it in stride, only grinning and saying that Rafael liked it. He supposed he couldn't argue, since he was the one who gripped Carisi's hair and moaned 'harder' whenever the younger man's teeth scrapped his skin, or he sucked kisses against him.

"Do you mean to tell me you were giving this case less than your best?" Even now, Rafael couldn't resist taunting Carisi, picking apart his words. He couldn't help it, he was in a good mood for the first time in days. He was feeling downright jubilant. 

"Give me a break and take a compliment, would you Barba?" Carisi's voice was a mixture of laughter and exasperation. Rafael couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. When the detective punctuated his words with a firm roll of his hips against him, Rafael huffed a soft breath, wishing very suddenly they were back at his apartment, where there were condoms and lube and privacy. 

He entertained a flash of fantasy; Carisi on top of him, pushing his thighs up high, thrusting hard inside him. Carisi had proved to be even better at fucking him than he had expected; he found himself pulling him on top of him nearly every time they'd been together since the night Johnny D shot up the courtroom. He couldn't get enough of it.

A shame they didn't have time now. They would have to satisfy themselves tonight with simpler fare. He hooked his thumbs into Carisi's belt and began to back up unto the room, pulling the eager detective with him by the waistband.

"No one is going to come knocking at this door, right?"

"No way. I mean, chances are slim to none, you know? This late, everybody's gone." 

"Good. We should still be quick... I have a lot of work to do before morning." Rafael stopped when the back of his knees hit one of the cots. He stretched up to kiss Carisi once more, licking into the other man's open mouth just long enough to make him shudder and groan. He pulled away and sat down on the bunk, looking up at Carisi as he made quick work of undoing his belt and trousers, tugging down the zipper. "You can be quick, right Sonny?"

"Wow. I seriously can't believe you're gonna blow me in the precinct. I feel like I gotta be dreaming right now. Do you know what a fantasy of mine this is?" Carisi was flushed pink, smiling with disbelief. It was lucky he looked more grateful than smug, or Rafael might have had to stop just to keep him from getting too cocky. He was already puffed up at having essentially won Rafael's case for him, but he deserved that. Not that Rafael would come right out and say that explicitly. He thought this served as thanks enough.

"Really. Is it usually up here?" Rafael tugged Carisi's slacks halfway down his thighs, though he left his underwear in place for the time being. He privately loved the surprisingly stylish low cut briefs Carisi wore, the way they hugged his ass and sat so low that his hipbones dipped down appealingly. He wondered if he had picked this style himself or a past girlfriend had turned him on to them. It was a style he was more used to seeing on gay men, but as Carisi was so fond of saying, he was full of surprises. 

"What, in the crib? No." He laughed softly and blushed a little darker. One of his hands settled on Rafael's shoulder, not guiding or pushing, just squeezing. He always seemed to want to be touching him. "Usually in one of the interrogation rooms, to be honest."

"You deviant. Were there handcuffs involved?" He supposed the taunt would have had more sting if he hadn't followed it up by leaning forward and mouthing wetly at the head of Carisi's rigid cock where it was so clearly outlined by his briefs. 

Carisi opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a groan, both of his hands now on Rafael's shoulders. "H-handcuffs? Hah, no, nothing quite so kinky, I..." A bit of broken laughter and a gasp punctuated his sentences as Rafael worked him with his lips and tongue through the increasingly damp briefs. Their dusky blue color was turning darker everywhere his mouth pressed. "God, it's embarrassing, usually I'm thinking about you rewarding me because you think I did such a good job. I can't believe I'm saying that out loud - oh God, Raf, quit teasin' me." He rocked his hips forward toward Barba's retreating mouth.

"Blow jobs as praise for police work well done in the precinct? We are fulfilling your fantasies tonight, aren't we? Good thing you had coffee for me. I suppose it's only fair, you did do an awfully good job..." He leaned back in, but Carisi's hands on his shoulders stiffened, stopping him.

"Wait, wait," he said, though his breathing was heavy and thick with arousal. Rafael knew by now just how well a few well-spoken words of praise could turn Carisi on. "You're not just doing this as a reward, right? I mean, you wanna...?"

Rafael did not restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "You're sweet. You clearly don't know me at all, but you are sweet." He pulled down Carisi's briefs, the young man hissing when his erection sprang free, standing up swollen and flush. "I'm doing this because I want you to fuck my mouth." He spit in his hand and took hold of Carisi, jerking him slowly, teasing. "But you did do a good job, a great job, on this case, so I could be convinced to play along with any scenario you had in mind... within reason." He knew what he was doing; between his words and his hand, Carisi's grip on his shoulders had slackened, and he dripped between Rafael's fingers. 

"God, Barba," Carisi groaned. "No, I don't need anything... just this, this is good, with you. Please." Rafael always enjoyed the way Carisi seemed continually shocked by the things he did and said. Everything they had done together in the past months, and each time it seemed to surprise and delight his young lover more than the last. It was as though he still expected Rafael to pull away and announce this had all been an elaborate prank.

He had no intention of pulling away now. He leaned forward instead, all soft lips and wet mouth. He wanted to taste the pre-come that slicked the stroke of his hand. He rolled his tongue around the head, pressing at the slit in a way that caused Carisi to tighten his grip on his shoulders again and flex his hips. He was teasing far more than he should have, considering that he'd just been woken up in the middle of the night and suddenly had an awful lot of work to do, but the taste of Carisi was rich on his tongue and his soft sighs music to his ears. 

Rafael loved to give head and wasn't ashamed of it. He loved his own cock, he loved having it sucked, and he loved being the one doing the sucking. He loved the feeling of control he felt making another man fall apart with his lips and tongue, and loved the feeling of abandon when his partner thrust into his throat. He loved it, and he knew he was good at it, and that only made him love it more. 

He was done teasing only when Carisi started to beg.

"Come on, please... suck me, Raf, please, your mouth feels so good, don't tease me like this..." Carisi's hands were in his hair now, stroking his cheekbones and jaw, light on the sides of his neck. He didn't pull him forward, didn't tighten his grip, even as he ran his mouth. Always a gentleman. 

Rafael gave him what he wanted, not out of a sense of acquiescence, but because the begging was what he wanted in the first place. He hummed a soft sound of feigned consideration before he took Carisi into his mouth completely, his tongue stroking and his cheeks hollowing from gentle suction. He bobbed his head up and down, further each time, until his lips and nose were pressed into the curls at the base of his prick. He stayed there for as long as he could, until sparks of light popped behind his eyelids and he pulled off, only gasping in a deep breath before he had him in his mouth again.

Carisi had one hand in Rafael's hair and the other in his own mouth, biting down on his knuckles to muffle the low moans and sharp gasps that he couldn't seem to keep in on his own as Rafael's head moved up and down. He could feel his chin becoming slick with spit and pre-come, but he didn't care, and swallowed Carisi down to the root again. He gripped the younger man's hips as he did so, pulling him forward, guiding him in. 

He pulled off again only when he had to suck in a breath. His hand replaced his mouth, breaking the saliva that strung from his lower lip to the tip of Carisi's flushed and swollen cock. He looked up at Carisi, knowing that his face was a mess, his lips swollen. He also knew that it made the other man crazy. He licked his lips as he stroked him with one hand, tugging as his hips again with the other. 

"Well, detective?" 

"Well...?" Carisi looked down at him, his face flushed and mouth open. Rafael relished the look of him dazed with pleasure and wanting more. His hips rolled forward, which was exactly what Rafael wanted.

"Am I going to have to do all this myself?" When Carisi still looked confused, Rafael pulled at his hip again, licking his lips. "I told you; I want you to fuck my mouth. Did you think I was kidding?"

"Yes. I mean, no." Carisi's eyelids fluttered and he groaned as Rafael twisted his wrist at the top of his stroke, dragging his palm over the head of Carisi's cock. "Fuck. No, I didn't think you were kidding, I thought it was a euphemism." 

"It wasn't." Rafael would have worried that Carisi's hesitation was because he was turned off by the suggestion, if it weren't the way his hips rolled forward when he realized that he was being serious. Rafael didn't wait for a answer, instead taking Carisi in his mouth again, licking, sucking, stroking. 

"Jesus, Barba. Are you sure?" He sounded hopeful, but cautious, as though he couldn't dare to believe this was something that happened outside of pornography. "God, that feels so good..."

Rafael didn't pull off to answer, jus relaxed his throat and tilted his chin up, using his hands on Carisi's hips to encourage him. Apparently finally convinced that this was really happening, he began to gently thrust roll his hips; shallow, slow thrusts past Rafael's lips. 

He moaned around Carisi, low and encouraging. When the other man's thrusts stayed careful, never pushing toward his throat, Rafael rocked forward to meet them, his hands on Carisi's hips insistent. It seemed that was finally enough, because slowly, he began to pick up his pace and power. 

Rafael looked up at Carisi through his lashes as the detective finally pushed into his throat. Carisi's eyes met his and the younger man groaned, his hands both coming suddenly into Rafael's hair as a litany of broken dirty talk began to stream from his mouth. 

"Barba, Raf, so good, feels so good... is it okay, is it... god, I don't want to hurt you, it... your mouth, Jesus Raf, your mouth... fuck, fuck..."

His thrusts had found a rhythm and Rafael relaxed, pressing his tongue up as Carisi thrust finally began to thrust in earnest. He caught breaths between the thrusts, his eyes watering, his cock in his pants so hard it was almost painful. He choked a little, once, and Carisi began to pull back as though to stop. Rafael gripped his hips and held him close, bobbing his head back and forth, sucking in the air he needed. 

Once he was sure Carisi wasn't going to stop, he let go of the younger man's hips, his hands undoing his own jeans, shoving them down just enough that he could draw himself out. He groaned around Carisi's thrusts at the feeling of his own hand and began to stroke himself, matching the pace at which Carisi thrust into his mouth. 

Rafael thought he might come when Carisi's hand tightened, tugging at his hair, tilting his head back a little further to thrust just a little deeper into his throat. He was moaning now almost as much as Carisi, handling himself more roughly as his lover's language got rougher, his accent thick and slurring.

"You like that, counselor? You like me fucking your throat like that, huh? Is that good? That's what you want?" Carisi tugged at his hair again, not hard, but the pressure of it set off sparks of pleasure through Rafael's whole body. "Fuck, you feel so good, so fucking good Raf, I'm close."

He leaned back, pulling his mouth free with an obsecene wet sound, and Carisi let him go easily. The sound of Rafael's ragged breathing was loud in the small, dark room. "Do it, then," he panted. "Come on." Rafael opened his mouth, tongue extended just enough to rest the tip heavy on his lower lip.

Carisi moaned, taking hold of his own cock and jerking it. It was clear that he immediately had caught Rafael's meaning. "Yeah? You want me to?" His words were more offer than question, apparently so far gone as to skip the usual double-checking.

"Do it," Rafael said again. "Come on, Carisi. You know you want to... you must have thought of it. Do it, who knows if I'll ever offer it again..."

The hand still in Rafael's hair tightened, pulling his head back, and Rafael groaned, sticking out his tongue again. The movement of Carisi's hand sped up, almost as fast and hard as Rafael was touching himself. 

"Yeah? You want me to shoot on your face, counselor? Gonna let me mess you up?" Rafael could tell that Sonny was close, his phrases disjointed, thrusting into his own hand. "Always so perfect, so pretty, fuck – fuck, Barba!"

Rafael gasped as Carisi's hand jerked his hair at the same moment that the first stripe of hot come landed across his lips and chin and tongue, then his cheek and nose, and then his mouth again. He stuck his tongue out further, obscenely, not wanting to miss a drop. When Carisi loosened his grip on his hair, Rafael surged forward, licking and kissing his cock, wanting just a little more. He didn't stop until Carisi whined from the oversensitivity. 

Rafael was close – so close that he was surprised when the cot dipped beside him and Carisi's arm encircled his shoulders. A hand cupped his chin, turning his face, and then Carisi was kissing him, regardless of the come cooling on his face. 

"Come on, Rafael," he murmured against his lips, sweet words between hot kisses. "That was so good, you're so fuckin' sexy. Come for me, please? I wanna see you come, come on, so hot, babe..."

Carisi swallowed Rafael's moan when he finally did come, holding him tight against his body. He only broke the kiss to take Rafael's hand and lift it to his own mouth, licking the come from his fingers. He had two fingers deep in his mouth as Rafael's breathing finally started to slow. 

"You're filthy," Rafael sighed, pleased, and pushed his fingers just a little deeper into Carisi's mouth. The younger man's eyelashes fluttered prettily, and Rafael pulled his hand back before he choked him. 

"Says the guy with my come on his face," Carisi said, once he released Rafael's hand. He looked far too pleased with himself. "Which, wow, is so hot, by the way? I never did that with anyone before. So thank you for that." Ever the gentleman, Carisi swiped his knuckles gently over Rafael's cheek and chin to wipe away the worst of the mess that remained.

“It was a special occasion, don’t get used to it.” Rafael carded his fingers through Sonny’s hair, the gel beginning to give up its hold this early in the morning. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not fooled, I know by now you like it when I make a mess out of you, counselor.” 

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Come here, Sonny.” He pulled the other man close and kissed him gently, languidly. It would have been sweet, save that Rafael would never use such a word to describe himself. Carisi’s arms around him, the soft sound of pleasure he made against Rafael’s mouth; those things were sweet.

“You did a great job on this case,” he said, soft and sincere, when they finally broke apart. 

“Thanks,” Carisi said, with a smile so bright and so proud it could rival daylight.

Rafael pulled his jeans and boxer briefs back up over his hips, doing up the button and zipper. “I really do have to work on this motion, I want to submit the video into evidence first thing in the morning.” He yawned on the word morning, scrubbing his face over his hand and frowning when he found it slightly sticky.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Sonny stood up, righting his trousers as he did. His shirt still hung untucked. “There’s an interview room right across from here you can use, and a bathroom right through that door there-“ he pointed, “-if you want to clean up.”

“Thank you.” Rafael stood and leaned up, meeting Carisi half way for one last kiss. It was friendly, comfortable. Practically a smooch. Rafael had no idea where such a thing had come from, or why he had done it so easily.

“No problem. Hey, you need anything from me? Any help? I wouldn’t mind at all.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The day I come asking for your legal expertise is the day I’ll be disbarred,” Rafael quipped, deadpan. 

Carisi only laughed. “Yeah yeah, alright well, just offering. Besides, it’d be good for me too. Hey, maybe I could shadow you on a case some time?”

Rafael shook his head, going into the little half bath, the door hanging open behind him as he turned on the tap and splashed a water on his face. “First of all, you don’t have time, and second, absolutely not.” He pulled free a paper towel and patted his face dry.

“It would be really good for me, I could learn a lot…” Rafael shot Carisi a look, and he laughed, holding up his hands. “Alright, alright, I give up. Look, I’m going to catch a few hours sleep in here. If you need anything, just come get me, alright?” 

“I think I can handle this. I’ll get it drafted, go home and shower, and head to court.” Rafael picked up his file box and opened the door. He glanced back at Carisi, who had hung his tie on the foot-board of one of the bunks and was unbuttoning his shirt. Rafael didn’t bother to hide the way his eyes drank in Carisi’s lean torso in his undershirt. “Get some sleep, detective.”

Carisi smiled, and Rafael pulled the door shut behind him. He hadn’t felt this good in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Frou Frou's "Let Go."
> 
> So. HOLY HELL DID YOU ALL THINK I DIED?
> 
> I really need to thank you all for your patience and your wonderful supportive comments. You don't really want to hear about my insane life (strep throat? Ear infection? Burst pipe? Indoor rain? Ceiling caving in? Mom in the hospital with pneumonia? Crippling depression? Terrible job? Existential dread?) but just know that this was never far from my mind. 
> 
> I have written, edited, scrapped, and rewritten parts of this chapter so many times it feels like frankenchapter. But I said it would be up today and SO HELP ME GOD HERE IT IS. Sorry if it's all fucked up. I love you all.
> 
> Big shout out to greygerbil, my tumblr sister, who has encouraged me and supported this story every day! And thank you to everyone who commented or messaged me asking when the chapter would come up and telling me how excited they were. I couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> I will really, really, REALLY try not to leave you guys hanging again.
> 
> As always, let me know if I fucked the canon up.
> 
> (Oh, and credit to L a u r a R o z i e r, Poltical Science major at N o r t h w e s t e r n U n i v e r s i t y, whose thesis I stole for Barba, and whose life I am not trying to ruin by putting this story in Google search results for her name. It's a hell of a paper though, you should read it if you're interested in that kind of thing. And I am.)


	11. there's a low moon caught in your tangles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eleven Prompt: Lazy Morning Sex.  
> S17, E3 - Transgender Bridge.

Saturday morning in Barba’s apartment was a surreal experience. Sonny had woken up at Barba’s more than a few times now, but it was always to the sound of Barba’s alarm, and more often than not followed by a hasty goodbye and rushing back to his apartment to get ready for work. Today was different; neither of them worked, so Sonny had woken up naturally with Barba still asleep beside him. He took his time, stealing the chance to observe Barba sleeping. He looked deceptively sweet, in the dim morning light that peeked through the curtains; his brow unfurrowed, lips parted. Sonny drank the sight in, wanting to remember it the next time the other man was rolling his eyes and mocking him in the harsher electric light of the precinct. 

Eventually, he made his way out of bed, pushing carefully off the mattress to avoid disturbing the sleeper. He stepped into the briefs he’d discarded the night before and crept out of the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him. He padded through the apartment, opening curtains and blinds to the sun, and admiring the beautiful view that Barba’s apartment offered. Sonny loved mornings; he was always up early and anxious to get a start on the day when the rest of the world was sleeping. It was like owning the world and having no one in his way, at least for a while. A glance at the clock told him it was nearly nine, a positively decadent hour to wake by comparison. He started a pot of coffee, retrieved his gym bag from where he had abandoned it near the front door, and dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt he’d rolled up and shoved in it. 

Dressed and armed with a fresh cup of coffee, he wandered around the living room, taking leisurely sips from the steaming mug, and tracing his fingers over the spines of well-worn books on the shelves. There was Vonnegut, and Hemingway; Kerouac, Bradbury, and Heller. He lingered over a copy of Walter Brigg’s “The Fifth Assailant;” it had been a favorite of his in college. He wondered if Barba was a fan, or if he had picked up the book during the case. There were a few books of poetry as well, which surprised him. Walt Whitman, Allen Ginsberg, José Marti, Charles Bukowski. He smiled, imagining Barba sitting in his living room, reading poetry for pleasure. He wondered if he ever had the time, or if the books were well-loved keepsakes from college, fondly remembered but seldom touched. Either way, the worn spines and array of names said a great deal about the man who owned them, maybe more than he knew. You didn't need to see bookmarks to get a picture when you saw what a person kept on their shelves, the state of their books, the order they kept them in.

Sonny had no doubt the paperwork spread over what would have been a dining table got far more attention, though. Idly, he spun one of the multiple legal pads to face him and flipped through a few pages, each covered in notes. He couldn’t help his curiosity, not for the cases themselves, but the way Barba approached them, his process, the way his mind worked. He wondered if he could convince the other man to let him shadow him on a case. He’d brought it up before and been shot down, but he didn’t think a more serious request could hurt.

Finishing his coffee, he washed the mug, set gently it in the dish rack to dry. It was funny how knowing someone was sleeping could make you move carefully even when you didn't need to. He made his way to the bathroom. After relieving himself, running his hands under the tap and methodically drying them, he picked up his toothbrush. His toothbrush, given to him by Barba, and the only thing he left here. Sonny felt an absurd flutter every time he saw it sitting in the cup beside Barba’s. It was something tangible; a physical mark he left on the other man’s life.

He took a moment after splashing water on his face to confront his reflection. His hair stuck out in every direction, mussed from sleep and sex. As he brushed his teeth, he searched for a comb, idly opening drawers and automatically scanning the contents of the medicine cabinet. Medicine cabinets were even better than bookshelves if you wanted to know a person. Pomade and cologne, top shelf; band-aids, tweezers, cotton rounds and razors in the middle – and the comb he was seeking. The bottom shelf told its own story: Excedrin and aspirin, a few prescriptions; Sonny recognized Imitrex for migraines, and Atorvastatin had to be for high cholesterol. There was another, Truvada, that he didn’t recognize. Internally chastising himself for snooping, he took the comb and closed the cabinet, frowning at his reflection when it reappeared.

It wasn’t that he meant to pry, but he couldn’t help but be interested in the man’s life outside of work. For all their intimacy, the Barba was a mystery to him in many ways. He didn’t know about his family or his friends, his hobbies. Their conversations had allowed glimpses into the other man’s private life, but more often than not their topics were about cases and the law, work, and while Sonny might ramble on about his sisters or a book he’d read, Barba rarely opened up in the same way.

Eventually, he was able to get his hair wet enough that he could comb it into an acceptable shape. He was still smoothing it back with his hands as he exited the bathroom, startled when he saw Barba leaning against the doorframe of his kitchen, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and holding a mug of coffee in two hands. His hair was sleep mussed, and there was a shadow on his cheeks. Sonny’s heart rate picked up just seeing him like this; who would have thought Barba could look even better than he did in a three piece suit.

“Hey,” Sonny said, with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”

Barba shook his head. “I smelled the coffee. Thank you.” Barba didn’t disguise the way he appraised Sonny from toe to tip, and Sonny felt his cheeks burn. “You showered. Have you been up long?”

“No, nah. I just got my hair wet and had a cup of coffee.” Feeling suddenly bold, Sonny casually crossed to where Barba was standing and dipped his head to kiss his jaw as he passed him into the kitchen, half expecting the other man to flinch back and stare at him as though he’d grown a second head. He was pleasantly surprised when Barba only made a pleased sort of humming noise and bumped his cheek against Sonny’s.

“You also got dressed,” Barba noted, turning to watch Sonny pouring himself a second cup of coffee. “Somewhere to be?”

“Just outta your hair.” He helped himself to the creamer that Barba had left sitting out on the counter.

“I’d rather have you back in my bed,” Barba quipped, so casually that Sonny nearly did a double take. Barba only smirked over the rim of his coffee cup, one eyebrow quirking upward.

“Sorry, are you flirting with me right now?” Sonny grinned.

“With observational skills like this, have you considered a career as a detective?” Barba was rolling his eyes, but he was also smiling. Sonny walked over to him and leaned his elbow on the wall.

“All this time and all I had to do to get you to be nice to me was make you coffee?” 

“Something you might have noticed with those finely honed detective talents. Haven’t you ever noticed how well I treat Carmen?” Barba trailed a hand over Sonny’s side, fingers sliding up under the hem of his t-shirt to graze his side. 

Sonny managed to suppress a shiver, but not his smile. “I think you might like me more than Carmen.”

Barba barked a laugh. “Did you ever read that wrong. She is indispensable; your ass looks good in jeans.” His fingertips dipped into the waistband of Sonny’s jeans in the back, and Sonny leaned a little closer, undeterred by Barba’s teasing. 

“Real good. Out of ‘em, too.” Sonny waggled his eyebrows playfully. Barba shook his head, but for a moment Sonny still thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, he lifted his coffee cup to his lips and drained it, stepping away from Sonny and toward the counter. He splashed cream into the bottom of the empty cup and returned it to the refrigerator before pouring himself another cup of coffee. Sonny didn’t hide the disappointed noise he made, and Barba seemed to enjoy it.

“Plans for the day?” Barba sipped at the steaming coffee.

“Homework. Gotta use days off to catch up.” Sonny shrugged.

“Mm. You’re what, 3L?” If Sonny didn’t know better, he would think that Barba looked impressed when he nodded. “And a full time at SVU. How are you doing?”

“You gonna depose my on my grades, counselor?” He sighed. “Above median. Not as well as I’d like, which is why I gotta study.”

“That isn’t terrible.” Sonny didn’t think it was like Barba to be that charitable; he suspected his amorous mood might be coloring his statements. “I have tickets to the opera tonight. You should stay, go with me.” 

"Opera?" Sonny thought he must have misheard him.

"Mozart." If Barba thought anything was out of the ordinary about his invitation, his casual manner didn't give it away.

They'd gone to dinner together a few times, but never had Barba asked him to do something that so clearly implied a date. He hesitated before answering, uncertain. “I’ve got a note to finish.” 

“What case?” Barba looked more alert at once, openly curious.

“White v. Woodall.”

“Easy." Barba gestured dismissively with his coffee mug. "The Supreme Court ruled that the judge hadn’t acted unreasonably and upheld the sentence of death.”

“Well, actually," Sonny waggled his hand in a so-so gesture, "they said they didn’t have the authority to override the State’s ruling.”

“Yes, and therefore…” Barba led.

“OK, yeah, but they didn’t hold that he waived his right to self-recrimination due to his guilty plea." Sonny blinked, straightening up from where he leaned against the wall. "Wait a minute. You don’t seriously side with Scalia on it?”

“Breyer's dissent was particularly nuanced,” Barba admitted. “Though Scalia set a precedent that favors the prosecution.”

“That doesn’t mean it was right, though.” Sonny could hear himself speaking faster. The mirth in Barba's eyes made it clear that he was baiting him, but Sonny rose to it all the same.

“He brutally raped and murdered a sixteen-year-old girl," Barba argued dispassionately. "You don’t think he deserved a death sentence?”

“No, I don’t, and neither do you.” 

“Don’t I? I am a prosecutor.” The corners of the other man's mouth were turned up into a smirk now as Sonny got more keyed up.

“Yeah, in New York, where we don’t have the death penalty. And besides," he pointed at Barba, "you said so!”

“When?” Barba hid a yawn behind the back of his hand.

“At Harvard, in your senior thesis.” Though he delivered them like a coup de gras, instantly Sonny wished he could retract the words. 

Barba’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows crept toward his hairline. “Out of curiosity, did you track down my legal writings before or after we…?”

“Before,” Sonny said quickly, his cheeks burning. “I heard you were on the Law Review, and I…”

Barba smiled and shook his head. “Of course you did. I should have known.” Barba looked more flattered than anything, and Sonny exhaled in relief. The last thing he needed was to sound like a stalker. “Regardless, Woodall isn’t a death penalty decision. It’s court procedure, no adverse interference.”:

“And habeas, and self-incrimination, and the Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act. And it - it’s self-incrimination!” Sonny was waving his hands around so dramatically; he was lucky he hadn't sloshed coffee onto Barba's kitchen floor.

“Scalia wrote it was harmless error.”

“That doesn’t mean he was right.”

Barba studied him a moment before smirking. “No, it doesn’t. And I agree with you, though less on emotional grounds, and more because a guilty plea does not entirely waive a person’s fifth amendment rights.”

“The right to remain silent.” Sonny smiled. “That’s what Breyer said.”

“Almost as though I’ve read it.”

“Ha ha.” Sonny rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. If for no other reason than the pleasure of watching Rafael Barba flaunt his legal knowledge like he was in front of a judge, but with bed head and wearing only a pair of rose colored boxer shorts.

“Stay,” Barba said again. “I can help you with it and try to teach you something. After we’ll go out for dinner and Bastien und Bastienne.”

Sonny didn't know if he was more excited by the prospect of a real date out with Barba, or the opportunity to hear his insights and analysis of a Supreme Court decision; to collaborate with him on a case note. He could hear his sister's voice echoing in his mind, telling him that either way, he was a nerd.

"That's a tempting offer. You sure this isn't all just a ploy to get me back into bed?" Sonny smiled.

"Would a ploy be required?"

"Nah." Sonny paused. “So, you just happen to have a spare opera ticket? Did you plan this, is this a surprise date?”

Barba chuckled, setting his empty coffee cup in the sink. “No, the person who was supposed to use the ticket couldn’t make it.”

“Wait, you were gonna go out with someone else?” Sonny set his cup beside Barba’s.

Rafael just raised an eyebrow. “My mother.”

Sonny felt an absurd flush of relief that he was sure showed on his face. He was embarrassed, but at the same time conflicted. It had been six months, was it so wrong to want to know if Barba was sleeping with other people? He opened his mouth to say so, but at the last moment decided against it. Barba had just gone so far as to ignore Sonny’s past hero-worship fueled stalking and asked him out to dinner. It wasn’t the time to press his luck.

"It's sweet that you take your ma' to the opera, Rafael," he said, smiling. It might have been the time to press his luck a little.

"Not particularly in the mood to talk about my mother." Barba was appraising him openly again.

"Oh yeah?" Sonny grinned, folding his arms across his chest. "What are you in the mood for, then?"

"You, naked, back in my bed. Have I been unclear?"

“No,” Sonny replied, still smiling, and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. “Perfectly clear, counselor.” 

Barba walked past Sonny out of the kitchen, dragging a hand along his now-exposed side, scratching short nails where his jeans hung low on his hipbones. The touch was casual; Barba didn’t even look at him as he did it, but Sonny still broke out in goosebumps. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” Barba said, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door. He didn’t wait or watch to see if Sonny would head into the bedroom. Not that there was ever really a question. 

He went back to Barba’s bedroom at once, popping the button on his jeans as he walked. He took the time to open the curtains, flooding the room in natural light dappled with the shadows cast by the trees that lined the street. He kicked off his jeans and briefs to the same corner that held his discarded suit from the night before. He was half-hard already from anticipation. Sonny knew enough to know that Barba didn’t like mornings; he was usually irritated and scowling at his alarm until after he’d had a shower and a few cups of coffee in him. He’d have never have expected him to be up for it first thing in the morning; not that he was complaining. Sonny was a morning person, which included a taste for morning sex. Every girl he’d ever dated had been woken up occasionally by his amorous, hopeful nuzzling. Not that he’d ever had the courage to try it with Barba.

Sonny had just sat down on the bed when Barba came in, not bothering to shut the bedroom door behind him. It was evident at once that he'd made a token effort to tame his bedhead while he was in the bathroom, though Sonny didn't see the need. He loved to see Barba looking mussed and undone. He was always so put together; it gave him a thrill to see him out of his armor. Right now, he'd be happy just to get him out of his boxers.

"You look so good," Sonny said. Barba rolled his eyes, but Sonny thought he looked pleased all the same and pressed on. "Oh, come on, like you don't know you're real attractive."

"I know you're turned on," Barba dismissed the compliment as he approached. He reached out and grazed Sonny's cheek lightly with his knuckles before using one to lift his chin. He leaned in and brushed his lips over Sonny's, softly at first, then with a bit more pressure. "You look good, too."

Sonny shivered at Barba’s compliment, his kiss. By now he had gotten used to how Barba worked. The cutting edge and acidic wit softened when they were in bed together, even more so when he wanted to get there. Not that he’d ever doubted that Barba was capable of sweet talk, but he did like being on the receiving end of it. His legs spread to make room for the other man between them as he slid his hands up along Barba's sides, guiding him nearer and reveling in the feel of him, all at once soft and solid.

He tilted his chin up as Barba leaned closer, opening his mouth to the older man's kisses, the cool peppermint taste of him, his clever tongue, his warm lips. It was different from how Barba usually kissed him, deeply and with a rapidly building intensity that made his head swim and stole his breath away. Instead, he drew the kisses from his mouth slowly, the tip of his tongue flicking out to tease him, the drag and press of his kiss maddeningly slow. When Sonny swayed forward to capture the smart mouth that so often captivated him, Barba drew back almost imperceptibly; just enough to prevent Sonny from claiming his prize. He could feel Barba smirking more than he could see it as Barba kissed him again, as maddening and soft and languid as before.

The tantalizing slowness and teasing made Sonny's head swim. He was hard, and the way Barba's thigh brushed against him made him groan into the other man's mouth. He gripped his hips and pulled Barba down into the bed, rolled him onto his back, and kissed him soundly; licked into his mouth and drew out moans. And yet for all his urgency, he pushed no further. They were always so busy, so tired, so horny that they never took their time. Sonny was only too happy to take it now; as long as desire would let him, anyway.

Barba must have been of the same mind because they moved slowly together, a tangle of arms and legs, the friction of their bodies together incidental instead of chased with the thrusting of hips, the press of thighs. Everything was their lips and tongues and teeth, their hands on each other's backs, shoulders, and faces. Sonny relished in the scrape of their cheeks together, the shadow of their morning beards, and wondered fleetingly when such a thing had become so erotic to him. 

He would have been happy to spend hours just kissing Barba, instead of long, boundless minutes, but he wasn't going to object when Barba's hand gripped his shoulders and pushed him, moved with him, rolling him onto his back. Sonny smiled up at Barba as the other man sat up on his knees, pushing his boxers over his hips. Sonny licked his swollen lips at the sight of Barba's thick cock as he revealed it. 

Barba must have noticed because he was smirking, kiss-bruised lips pressed together in a self-satisfied smiled. That kind of smugness from Barba made Sonny want to grip his hips and fuck him into the mattress, which was ideal in this situation, though slightly more of a distraction when the ADA was strutting around the courtroom.

Sonny was about to push himself up into a sitting position to seize that smirking mouth once more, but Barba surprised him by swinging a leg over him and straddling high on his thighs. Sonny drank in the sight of him, beautiful in the dappled morning light, soft and naked and sumptuously formed. He wanted to touch him, to drag his hands along his body and take in the shape of him, to spit in his hand and palm their dicks together, to feel the slide of Barba's thick cock against his own. He wanted to grip his firm thighs and sink into his round, luscious ass. More than anything, he wanted to spend several sunlit days pressed against him, kissing him.

"You're beautiful," Sonny said, honestly, absent the confidence to put the rest of his desires into words. He cupped Barba's ass as the other man settled into his lap and rocked his hips forward, teasing Sonny with friction.

"I want you," Barba replied. He cupped Sonny's face and dragged his thumb across his full lips. Sonny caught it in his mouth, sucked the digit in between his lips and rolled his tongue around it. His eyes fluttered closed as Barba moaned. Soon it was Barba's slender index and middle fingers deep in his mouth, and he opened his eyes again, looking straight at Barba as he moaned low around his fingers and hollowed his cheeks.

Barba groaned and pulled his hand free. He leaned down to kiss Sonny again, and at the same time reached down between them and took hold of them both with his spit-slick hand. Between Barba's touch and the searing pleasure of his kiss, Sonny felt like he was dissolving with desire. His hold on them was light, the speed of his stroke languid, a far cry from Barba's usual direct and expeditious manner. The lazy tugs were the perfect compliment to their drawn-out kisses, the rare unhurried feel of the morning.

The slide of Barba's cock against his set off sparks under his skin. His breath against the other man's mouth was shuddering, broken by huffs and soft gasps. He gripped the older man's thick thighs, intoxicated by the press and weight of his body on top of him. Sonny let himself get lost in Barba, in his touch, reacting to him and letting him lead. 

It stretched on such that Sonny thought Barba intended to be just like this, to lie together kissing while he teased them both to climax. However, every time Sonny felt the tension starting to build in him, every time his breathing sped up, and he canted his hips toward his lover's hand, Barba's hand would still, and he pressed slow kisses to Sonny's mouth until the fire had ebbed. And then he would begin again.

"I want you, Sonny," Barba said again, just when Sonny didn't think he'd be able to wait any longer and had been about to begin begging Barba to make him come. He whined when Barba let go of him and broke their kiss to lean away, reaching for his bedside table and managing to retrieve a strip of condoms and a bottle of slick from the second drawer.

"Fuck." Sonny's dick twitched and heat pooled in his stomach at the sight of the supplies and the thought of what they promised. "You're not too sore?" He did his best to keep the hopeful note from his voice. He'd fucked Barba long and hard the night before, pinning his shoulders to the mattress and thrusting roughly into him while the other man gasped for more. He didn't want to hurt him by going again too soon.

"I'm all right, just lie back." Barba's voice was the sort of sweet that he only used in bed, stripped of all his sarcasm and snark. 

Sonny did as he asked. Barba did the work of putting a condom on him and slicking him with lube, something Sonny always did for himself. When Barba poured slick onto his fingers and reached back, arching his body as he prepared himself, Sonny groaned. Seeing Barba touching himself, the pretty curve of his body as he made himself ready was almost too much. He had to touch him, stroking his hands along his chest, blunt nails scratching at his sides, fingertips gently pulling at his nipples. Barba's lashes fluttered.

Nothing had prepared Sonny for the feeling of Barba sinking onto his cock, the hot clench of his body ever so slowly taking him in. His brow furrowed and his mouth slack, Barba bowed his body forward over Sonny, close enough that he could feel the other man's breath on his lips. It was bliss, pure bliss, and that was before Barba began to move.

The roll of Barba's hips was sensuous, slow, and so fucking hot that Sonny could barely stand it. The slow slide and drag of their bodies, the kisses he arched up to steal. It was so different from what they usually did, so intimate and tender and careful, that Sonny felt he would go to pieces. 

Barba liked to be well and truly fucked, to be ridden rough and pushed to the edge of sensation, and Sonny had well learned the pleasure of that kind of play. But this is what he loved best, this gentleness, feeling every shift and tremor of his partner, to breathe their breath and drink kisses from their mouth. 

"Rafael," he moaned, and then again. "Raf, fuck, yeah, that's so good. You feel so good, babe." His fingers carded through Barba's hair, tugging him down just enough to kiss him soundly, to swallow the soft sounds of pleasure that the older man was making as he rocked their bodies together. He reached down between them, wanting to feel Barba in his hand, to stroke and tease and touch him; to please him.

Barba stopped him, catching his hand and squeezing it. "Not yet," he said, and the breathiness in his voice made Sonny groan. He canted his hips up to meet the undulation of Barba's body, and the angle must have been good because Barba shuddered against him and gasped, the sound half choked. Sonny did everything he could to repeat the motion, and Barba swayed forward and pressed his face into Sonny's shoulder.

"Sonny," he breathed, his name catching in Barba's throat. "That's right, Sonny. Like that, slow like that. Right there, amorcito, right there." Barba was mouthing wetly at his neck, and Sonny turned his head, nuzzling at him, needing to kiss him again. The sound of his name on Barba's lips was too much, and if Barba kept saying it, Sonny was going to come. And he didn't want it to end.

He lost himself in Barba's body, the feel and the scent and the taste of him. Giving himself over to pleasing his lover, he rocked his hips up, again and again, to meet him and reveled in the sweet, breathy soprano sounds that Barba couldn't help making when Sonny was hitting his prostate. 

It couldn't last forever. The heat built and the need became too great. Barba tangled his finger's with Sonny's and dragged their hands between their bodies. 

"Touch me," he whispered, wrapping both their hands around his thick, neglected prick. The slide of their hands was slick and smooth, wet from the steady flow of pre-come that dripped from Barba's cock onto Sonny's belly.

"I got you, Raf, I got you." He took over, pumping his fist in time with the gentle upward thrusts of his hips. Barba's hand fell away, returning to grip Sonny's shoulder as he gasped and moaned. 

"Fuck, yes, that's good, Sonny..."

"Yeah?" Sonny asked, needlessly. The way Barba's hips stuttered and his breath hitched told him everything he needed to know. He could feel himself growing close, the other man's pleasure fueling his own. He needed Barba to come first and breathed deeply to keep himself from coming.

"Come on, Rafael. That's good, yeah?" His stroke picked up speed as his urgency grew, twisting his wrist to swipe his thumb over the blunt head of Barba's dick. The sweet whines and whimpers coming from Barba's throat told him it was working. "Yeah, that's right. Come on babe, give it to me, I wanna make you come, please..."

He was babbling, his accent thick and his speech slurred, but it didn't matter. Barba gasped hoarsely and shook against him, spilling through Sonny's fingers and painting his stomach with streaks of come. The way he clenched and bore down around Sonny made light dance behind his eyes, and he groaned loud and low. The hand that wasn't still loosely jerking Barba's prick gripped his hip and held him fast as Sonny gave himself over to a few last deep strokes, and spent himself inside the other man.

The world had shrunk to just the two of them and exploded into pleasure. Sonny could do nothing but press his face to Barba's neck and breathe ragged breaths as he waited to come down, for reality to crash back in.

It was Barba who finally broke the spell between them, shifting backward and rolling onto his side. Sonny couldn't help the murmur of protest that escaped his lips as his slowly softening cock slipped out of Barba's ass. Barba rolled onto his side and kissed lazily at Sonny's jaw before pushing up onto his elbow long enough to do the work of stripping the condom off Sonny and discarding it. This was a task usually left to Sonny, and he felt strangely pampered to have it done for him while he lied back against soft pillows and basked in the afterglow. 

Once Barba was stretched out close beside him again, Sonny turned toward him and curled an arm loose across his stomach. He settled in with his cheek on Barba's shoulder. 

"That was fucking awesome," he drawled. "Really, just an awesome way to start the day." Barba didn't respond with words, just a hummed agreement, and a squeeze as he covered Sonny's arm with his own.

Sonny closed his eyes and let himself drift. He was slow and sleepy from his orgasm, but the two cups of coffee had synapses firing in his brain. He focused on Barba's chest under his hand, feeling its rise and fall as his breathing slowed to normal. Minutes passed, and Barba was still content to lie beside him, long fingers tracing and gentle back and forth along the line of Sonny's forearm.

"Hey, Rafael." Sonny opened his eyes, turning his head just enough to observe the other man, whose eyes did not open, though he raised his eyebrows with curiosity. 

"Yes?" Rafael's voice was content but alert, confirming to Sonny that he hadn't been dozing.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Clearly." The hint of playful sarcasm in Barba's answer made the corners of Sonny's mouth turn up in a smile.

"Yeah yeah, ha ha." He turned slightly to observe the other man's face better. “When did you know you were gay?”

“I’m sorry?” Barba's eyes were open now, and he turned his head to look at Sonny in surprise.

“What, too personal?" At once Sonny felt a brief pang of anxiety that he oughtn't have asked, but he covered himself with casual humor. "I mean, we’re naked in your bed on a Saturday morning, I figure if you’re ever going to talk to me…”

The other man eyed him a bit suspiciously. “Heavy topic while I’m still catching my breath.” 

“Sorry, forget it.” Sonny wasn't surprised by Barba's deflection. The man was a mystery to him, and as much as he wanted to talk to him, to pick apart all the locks inside him with words, he didn't want to press his luck, either.

Barba rolled his eyes, but as far as his sarcastic looks went, it was a mild one. “No, it’s fine. I can't pinpoint an exact date for you. Early, I suppose.”

“Did you come out early?” Sonny pushed himself up on his elbow. He thought about Avery Parker and her choice to come out as transgender in high school and all that it had cost her. Barba would have been in high school in the mid-eighties. He wondered what it had cost him.

“No." 

Sonny continued to look at him patiently, waiting for more, Barba eventually offered more than his one-word answer. 

"I didn’t act on it until I was at Harvard," the older man said, shifting into a position similar to Sonny's, propped up on his elbow with his cheek resting against his fist. "I dated girls in high school, some at college as well.”

“To hide it?”

“No, not like that, no. I was attracted to them. Loved some of them, as much as anyone loves anyone when they're a teenager.” Barba smiled wistfully, as though remembering something with extreme fondness.

“Wait, so, what? You liked women then?”

Barba looked annoyed, the far away look of memory in his eyes chased away. “I still like women.”

Sonny couldn’t conceal his shock. “Wait, what? You said you were gay!”

“Did I?” Barba raised one eyebrow.

“Yes! I mean… I thought you did.” Sonny tried to recall the exact details of their conversation all those months ago, during Tommy's trial. 

Barba let him stew in his confusion a moment longer before elaborating. “I prefer men. It doesn’t rule out women.”

“So, you’re bisexual?”

“If you like.” Barba shrugged. “Like I said. I prefer men. It’s been a long since I was with a woman, but that doesn't mean I don't still find them attractive, or that my past relationships with them were decietful in any way. It can be less complicated to round myself up to gay. People love to put others in boxes. Life is rarely that neat. Take yourself for example.” He looked at Sonny pointedly. “As you said, we’re naked in my bed on a Saturday morning, but I assume you would not only describe yourself to others as straight but think of yourself that way as well.”

Sonny couldn’t deny it. “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

“But you’re attracted to me." Barba raised one eyebrow pointedly; Sonny thought this must be what it felt like to be cross-examined by him. You’re not harboring any delusions regarding my gender; I wouldn’t put up with you thinking of me as a woman. So here you are, a straight man, and you fuck me, want to hold me afterward, and spend the night.” 

Sonny’s face burned, embarrassed by Barba’s explicit description. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I guess it’s complicated for everyone. I hadn’t considered it. I just assumed you were gay.”

“‘I am large, I contain multitudes.’” Barba quoted.

“Walt Whitman.” Barba looked pleased that Sonny had recognized the quote. Sonny couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “Whitman was gay.”

“Or bisexual, at least. Though he was never publicly ‘out.’ I suspect things were quite complicated for him, too.”

“So was it hard to be in the closet in high school, though, when you were younger? Did you think you’d ever act on your feelings for men? Did any of your friends or family know? Or did you not even really admit it to yourself?” Sonny knew he was piling up one question on top of the next, but now that there was a chance that Barba would talk about himself, Sonny found himself too eager to resist.

“I wasn’t in any denial about it. It was the mid-eighties, and I lived in a project in the South Bronx. I was already a short, skinny kid." Barba stretched back out against his pillow. Sonny could picture him, slender and lovely and young. "I wasn’t looking to make myself a target, and frankly, gay men in the city were dying. Regardless of what I felt, I didn’t think I’d ever act on it.” 

"You grew up in the projects? Seriously?" That was a harder image to reconcile than anything else. Polished, Harvard graduate, Upper West Side Rafael Barba coming out of what had been one of the most crime-ridden, impoverished neighborhoods in the country at the time.

"Mmhmm," Barba said, a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "At the Highbridge Rehabs, the corner of 166th and Anderson, just a block off Jerome Avenue."

"That's crazy, I had no idea," Sonny said, thinking about his suburban upbringing on Staten Island; a house with a yard, a bunch of sisters, always a family dog. He had a million questions at once; had Barba ever had a dog? Did he have brothers or sisters? How did he get from Highbridge to Harvard? He put a pin in those for later, and instead pressed on with his original line of questioning. “So, you thought you'd never act on it. What happened that changed your mind?”

“Time passed. I was out of the city. I met someone.” He shrugged. “What about you, Sonny? When were you first attracted to men?” 

“You," Sonny said, the lie coming so easily he almost believed it himself.

“Really? Never before?” Barba arched one eyebrow.

“Not really.” Sonny shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe a couple of times when I was a teenager I’d get hard wrestling around with a buddy, but… You know, when you’re that age, pretty much anything will do it. Any feelings were fleeting; I didn’t think anything of them. I knew I liked girls. Like, I really liked them, you know? I still do.”

“No one is forcing you to be here if there’s a woman you’d prefer.” Barba rolled his eyes but didn't shift to move away from where Sonny's body still pressed against his.

“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant…” Sonny began, but Barba cut him off.

“I don’t need reassurance, detective, I’m not insecure.”

"Yeah. Yes, I know that." Sonny observed Barba, who had closed his eyes again, for several quiet moments. The man could make him feel like he was talking in circles, spiking anxiety in him where he usually felt only confidence.

“So, when did you come out?” he asked, finally, reaching out to push back an errant strand of Barba's hair that stood out at an odd angle.

“To whom?”

“Anyone," Sonny shrugged.

“College," Barba said simply, apparently not willing to go into specifics unprompted. He opened his eyes again to look at Sonny. "It isn’t a one-time thing, coming out. It’s something you do for the rest of your life. I consider myself out. My orientation isn’t a secret, but I don’t advertise it, so there will always be people I meet who don’t know and will be told or find out, and then I’m coming out again. Like to you, right now, in a way. Is there someone you want to tell?”

“No," Sonny answered at once, and then took the time to consider it. "I mean, I don’t know. I've thought maybe about saying something to Bella, but... No. I wouldn’t even know what to tell her. I don’t know what this is. I mean, I know what this is," he gestured between himself and Barba, though that wasn't entirely true. His relationship with the other man confused him, but that was something to be unpacked another time. "I mean, what it means about me, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Barba was observing him openly now, his face all at once gentle and entirely inscrutable. 

“I know. But it does to me, I think. I mean… Like you said, I still think of myself as straight. But I'm here with you. I want to be here with you. And I’ve looked at gay porn.”

“God.” Barba scrubbed a hand over his face, apparently trying to hide a smile.

“Sorry," Sonny said, not feeeling sorry at all, and not bothering to hide his own smile.

“No, it’s fine. Before, or since you and I…”

“Only since," Sonny lied again, and then hedged. "Well, before, a little, but only once I knew that I wanted…”

“I get it.”

Barba reached out and smoothed Sonny's once-again wild hair. The touch was surprisingly tender, as was the look on Barba's face as he quietly observed him. When he began speaking again, his voice was softer, kinder. It was the way he spoke to victims and their families when he was reassuring them, or giving them honest, but sad news.

"You know that you can’t tell anyone about you and I, right?”

“What?" Sonny blinked, surprised. "No. I mean, yeah, I know.”

“We could lose our jobs," Barba said, still toying with the curling fluff of Sonny's hair, gently. "Any case we’ve worked together would be called into question, and-“ 

“No, really, I get it," Sonny cut him off. "I know.”

“It’s the biggest reason I didn’t think this was a good idea at the beginning.” Barba was still trying to explain, and it sounded so much to Sonny like he was being let down easy that he couldn't bear to hear it. The situation with Barba was still too confusing - thinking about telling people meant telling people that he was gay, or bi, or whatever - and the thought of doing it still made his head swim his stomach twist with anxiety.

That was hardly something he wanted to tell Barba right now, however. He smiled and deflected, turning the situation back to one more light hearted with a joke.

“Oh, yeah?" He gave Barba his best 'caught you' look. "So you were interested in me, but it was work that got in the way and made you resist? Nice, and here I thought you just thought I was a suck-up idiot.”

Barba rolled his eyes, but he also laughed. Sonny felt the tension leaving his shoulders as Barba warned him, “Don’t make me reconsider it.”

“I’m touched, Rafael. You like me.” Sonny grinned.

"What I'd like is breakfast and another cup of coffee." Barba pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, arching his back in a stretch. "Besides, we should get started on White v. Woodall if you're going to have time to go home and get a suit to wear for tonight."

"I got the one I wore last night," Sonny said, glancing around to see where he had discarded it as he too sat up.

"No, you need to go get a nice suit."

Sonny couldn't help but laugh out loud at Barba's deadpan jab. "God, you really are an ass." He grinned at the other man as he picked up his scattered clothing.

"Sometimes," Barba said, smiling a tight lipped smile. "Do you want coffee cake or eggs for breakfast?"

"You know what?" Sonny returned Barba's smile. "Surprise me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from The Decemberists' "Of Angels and Angles."
> 
> YOU GUYS. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH.
> 
> I'm in a new job and a new apartment, and I'm finally starting to get my shit back together. I can't thank everyone who kept sending me messages and comments enough. I really love you all and it means more to me than you can know. 
> 
> I'm so, so happy to be back.


	12. i want to come close, i want to come closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Twelve Prompt: Against the wall.  
> S17, E4 - Institutional Fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS CHAPTER HAS CONTENT WARNINGS THAT DO NOT APPLY TO THE REST OF THE WORK.**  
> There are canon-typical mentions of child abuse and domestical violence, as well as references to child abuse and domestic violence, as well as PTSD. Consider yourself warned.
> 
> This chapter was really hard for me, for many reasons. It absolutely wouldn't have been written at all without BarbaXCarisi, who betaed, held my hand through the hard parts, talked me through all my doubts, pulled me out of my OCD rabbit holes, fact-checked, researched, acted as a soundboard, and supported me 100%. She's responsible for all the best parts of this.
> 
> Thanks to ships_to_sail for cheering me on, and to the Fight Garden for all your patience, support, and friendship. Life has really sucked for me lately, and y'all make it better every day. This fic is for you.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love!

Rafael had been standing on the corner of Baxter and Bayard balancing one cup of coffee on top of another for less than a minute when the black Ford Interceptor pulled up to the curb beside a fire hydrant. The window rolled down to reveal Carisi's smiling face, and Rafael wasted no time handing him the two coffees before rounding the car to get into the passenger side. The blast of icy air conditioning was a welcome relief from the scorching summer afternoon.

"Twice in one day and a coffee to boot?" Carisi grinned as he handed Rafael back his coffee, the lid having already been popped back so he could drink it while he waited. "You're going to make me feel special if you keep this up."

"It's not as though I made Keith Musio call us back today." Rafael fastened his seatbelt as Carisi pulled away from the curb. "If anything, I think you had more to do with that. What exactly did you say to him, anyway?"

They had spoken to Musio already today in an effort to get any information they could use on the DCS conspiracy to cover up the negligence that had contributed to the death of Keisha Houston. He had refused; the attorney representing not only Musio but Janette Grayson and Matt Sheridan preventing him from saying anything of use. As they were walking out, however, Rafael had distracted D'Angelo while Carisi doubled back, advising the young social worker to obtain his own counsel.

"Just that he was low man on the totem pole, and if anyone was gonna get left holding the bag on this one, it was him."

"Well, good job, it worked. He's replaced D'Angelo with a public defender and wants to deal."

"Which one?" Carisi kept his face mostly neutral, but Rafael could tell the praise pleased him.

"Guthrie."

"Oh, that'll work. What are you gonna offer him?"

"Depends on what he's got to give. Criminally negligent homicide, probably."

"A felony?" Carisi screwed up his nose. "You know, I don't think he's a bad guy. He really felt for that little girl, I think the guilt is eating him alive. You know where I found him when I went to arrest him? He was taking flowers to her memorial."

"He should feel guilty; if he had done something he could have helped save her life. He had choices, Sonny, he could have gone to the DOI, he could have - wait." Rafael blinked, craning his neck to look out the window as Carisi merged onto the FDR. "Why are you going this way? The Triborough Bridge has tolls."

"I didn't want to wait through all that mess," Carisi gestured back toward the crawling queue for the Brooklyn Bridge. "What's it matter? The NYPD pays for the EZ pass."

"My tax dollars at work," Rafael muttered.

"Yeah yeah." Carisi was grinning. "I pay taxes too, and just think, every minute I'm not sitting in traffic is a minute the city doesn't have to pay me OT."

"Why didn't I just meet you there?" Rafael asked himself, rolling his eyes.

"The pleasure of my company, naturally. For the second time today. You like me."

"I just didn't want to have to pay for a car service," Rafael deadpanned.

"Ouch," Carisi didn't sound hurt at all. He was smirking like he didn't believe Rafael for a minute. "Maybe I'll let you Uber back to your office."

"I spent ten minutes opening sugar packets for you," Rafael snarked. "The least you can do is give me a ride."

Carisi picked up his coffee and took a sip, making a noise of appreciation at what Rafael considered to be a criminal abuse he had committed on what was once a decent cup of coffee.

"And thank you for that," Carisi said, and then added, "I gotta bring a bag of sugar to your apartment."

"Oh good, so you can ruin coffee there, too."

Carisi just rolled his eyes.

"So, we were going through the files from DCS, and we found something I think you can use," Carisi said, turning the conversation back to work.

"Don't keep me in suspense."

"You know how Keith backdated the reports right after Keisha died?"

"Mm." Rafael opened his briefcase in his lap, pulling out the paper bag holding the sandwich he'd picked up at the bodega along with the coffees.

"Wasn't just Keith. Dozens of other caseworker's reports were scanned in that day, all generic, all filed the morning after she died."

"You waited until just now to tell me this?" Rafael looked over, interested and only mildly irritated.

"We just found out. I was actually getting ready to call you when you called me. "

"It'll be hard for them to claim this was a case of one person being behind on their paperwork with this kind of effort put in. We need to find out who was there submitting all these reports. I also need copies of all the questionable reports along with updates of what's really going on with these families. If we could crosscheck the schedules of the caseworkers with the times and dates of these reports the way you did for Musio, also, that would be good."

"Yeah, we're not busy or anything," Carisi joked, but held up his hand when Rafael shot him a look. "Kidding. We're already on it, we'll get everything sent over to Carmen ASAP. It'd be great if you could get us some bodies from the DIA to help out, though. Dodds is riding hard on the Sarge, he doesn't want us working on this case at all. She's trying to throw him off but he's not an idiot."

"I'll make a call and get some people on it." He pulled out his phone and dialed before holding it to his ear with his shoulder, leaving his hands free to unwrap his sandwich. "Carmen. I need you to get a couple investigators over to SVU."

While giving Carmen the details, Rafael noticed that Carisi's eyes kept wandering from the road to the kaiser roll in his hands. Careful to avoid letting any egg or cheese drip onto his suit, he wordlessly held out half the sandwich to the other man, who took it with a grateful smile. Rafael tossed a small stack of napkins onto Carisi's lap for good measure.

"Okay, great. Thanks, Carmen." Rafael dropped his phone back into his pocket. "We'll get a couple people over there today."

Carisi made a pleased noise around a mouthful of bacon. Only once they had finished eating and Rafael was scrubbing his hands with a napkin did Carisi break the easy, companionable silence.

"You're really going all in on this case."

"Because I notoriously half-ass things?" Rafael drolled, and Carisi rolled his eyes.

"No. I just mean you've got Bratton and Abraham and Dodds telling you to back off—"

"I don't work for the NYPD," Rafael interjected, though Carisi continued over him.

"—and probably the mayor and Jack McCoy—" Carisi continued, even as Rafael interrupted again.

"I do have it on good authority that the press is kissing my ass," Rafael joked, with a roll of his eyes. Not that he minded the press attention.

"—and not too long ago a DA in Brooklyn tried something like this and went down in flames, you know -"

"Yes, I do know," Rafael said, annoyed that Carisi would think he didn't.

"Yes, exactly, I know that you know, and that's why you really going after these guys is so, so..." Carisi took a breath, clearly struggling for words, and then sighed. "I lost where I was going. Has anyone ever told you that you're a real pain in the ass?"

"Daily," Rafael smirked, earning him a chuckle from Carisi.

"Seriously, though," Carisi smiled and patted Rafael's knee, giving him an affectionate squeeze and leaving his hand on his thigh. "I just... I think it's admirable, you know? This case is gonna be brutal on you, and you're so pragmatic, usually."

Stunned by Carisi's brazen display of affection, Rafael looked down at his hand on his leg, then at the man himself, staring at him with unmasked incredulity. Carisi either didn't notice or chose to ignore him. Against his better instincts, and for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he didn't push Carisi's hand away.

"A minute ago it sounded like you were arguing for leniency for Keith Musio, and now you admire my tenacity?" Rafael didn't bother to curb his sarcastic tone.

"Your conviction to do what you think is right in the face of adversity," Carisi corrected, clearly not at all annoyed by Rafael's snark. He wondered absently if he was losing his edge. "And just because I have sympathy for Keith doesn't mean I don't think DCS is culpable for what happened to Keisha. And I think you..."

Carisi trailed off. It was unusual for Rafael to see him at a loss for words, and he sighed, annoyed.

"Whatever you're trying to say, just spit it out."

It was apparently all Carisi needed to end his waffling. "You looked pretty rough at your press conference, and it's clear you're taking this case really hard. I know the ones with kids are always hard—"

"DCS is the last line of defense these kids have."

"—but it seems like maybe this is hitting a little close to home?" Carisi finished, carefully, his voice just a shade too gentle.

Rafael bounced his knee, effectively knocking Carisi's hand off his thigh.

"It isn't," he said, with all the finality of a slamming door.

Carisi held up both hands briefly in submission before returning them to the wheel. He had the good sense not to press the line of questioning any further. The rest of the ride passed in a tense silence, while Rafael tried to decide if it had been a bigger mistake to shrug off Carisi's hand or to let him touch him at all.

 

\------------

 

Rafael didn't see much of Carisi over the rest of the week, most of his communication coming through Olivia and the DIA investigators. Even if he had, there wouldn't have been time to talk. The case was moving at a breakneck pace, and the amount of investigative legwork was daunting.

Just past eleven on a Friday night, and he was still sitting at his dining room table working on his answer-tree for cross-examinations of the two defendants. He was beginning to regret having skipped dinner and going straight for drinks, though he needed them to get through some of these files.

The usually smooth scotch burned as he swallowed it. Carmen had done the legwork of weeding through the falsified DCS reports, sorting out the twenty or so most egregious cases for Rafael to use in his cross of Janette Grayson. All that was left was to pick out the worst of them, the ones he thought would have the most impact, but the sheer mass of suffering was overwhelming. He made a mental note to take Carmen somewhere nice for a long lunch when the trial was over. He couldn't imagine having to go through one hundred and thirty of these all in one sitting.

He was feeling numb and vaguely sick, and he'd only been through ten so far.

He opened yet another file, a fresh horror to add to the rest. A four-year-old girl covered in cigarette burns. An eight-year-old boy forced to drink bleach and repeatedly have his stomach pumped. A ten-year-old girl whose father had broken her arm and collarbone shortly before beating her mother into unconsciousness.

Rafael stared at the words so long they began to blur. His chest felt tight, and he could taste bitterness in the back of his throat. The file in his hand crinkled and bent in his grip. It was almost as if he could hear his parents’ voices raised in anger, echoing in his mind, over the rushing of blood in his ears. He could hear the crack of his father's hand across his mother's face, and the shocked silence that followed when he rushed to put himself in front of her.

He could hear his father, fifteen years dead.

 _"Sal de mi camino, maricón, hijo de la gran puta."_ Some thirty-five years ago, and he could feel his back hit the wall, feel the way the room had spun when his head dented the drywall. _"Tu niño malcriado merece un tronpon en la la boca, una patada por el culo y una madre que no es una idiota."_ He could see his mother fall, see the places on her arms that would bear handprint bruises later. He could feel the tears that had streaked his cheeks as he had walked hand in hand with his mother the five blocks to his Abuela's building.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and found the tears weren't a memory.

Swearing under his breath, Rafael got up from his table and went into the kitchen. He splashed cold water on his face at the sink, heedless of the water spots now staining his shirt. Bracing his hands on the edge of the counter, he bent forward and dropped his head low, forcing his rapid breathing to slow. This was ridiculous. Nothing was happening; he was alone in his apartment, he was just remembering, that was all.

Only once he felt the panic recede did Rafael dry his face with a dish towel and grab the bottle from the counter, taking it with him when he returned to the table. He pushed the files aside and poured a generous three fingers of scotch. He drank it too quickly for as expensive as it was, but he was more interested in the numbing effect than the rich, peaty taste.

His phone buzzed and lit up, and he pulled it to him, eager for the distraction. 

And what a perfect distraction it was - a text from Carisi, followed rapid fire by three more.

_'hey you home?'  
'just got out of class'  
'only a few blocks away ;) ;) ;)'  
'if you're in the mood for company ;)'_

Carisi's brand of late night company was exactly what Rafael was in the mood for. Nothing would push away the shadow clouding his mind better than losing himself in the pleasures of the eager young detective's body. 

He tapped out a quick reply with two thumbs.

_'Someone's needy.'  
'But yes, come over.'_

Carisi replies came through in under a minute. 

_'ha ha'  
'i'm already walking your way'  
'be there in like 10'_

Rafael dropped his phone back on the table and went into his bedroom, trading out his dampened shirt for a fresh one. He brushed his teeth to chase away the unpleasant mix of scotch and bitter adrenaline. He was raking his fingers through his hair in front of his bathroom mirror when he heard the buzz from his front door. 

"It's Sonny," Carisi said, and Rafael buzzed him in.

Rafael liked what he saw when he opened the door. Carisi must have changed at the precinct before going to class. He was used to him showing up after class in the same suit he had worn to work that day, but apparently, the heat had finally won out. Carisi was in a slim, fitted t-shirt for some band Rafael had never heard of that hugged toned arms and shoulders, along with a lived-in looking pair of jeans. As late as it was in the day, the product in his hair had started to give up its hold.

He didn't bother to hide the way his eyes raked over him. Carisi grinned.

"Well hello to you too, Rafael." 

He rolled his eyes and stepped back to make room for Carisi to enter the apartment. "Get in here."

He shut and locked the door behind Carisi, who set down his messenger bag and toed off his shoes. As soon as Carisi turned toward him, Rafael skimmed his hands over the other man's waist and looped his fingers through his belt loops, pulling him forward by the hips until they were flush together. 

Carisi made a noise of surprise, though clearly not protest, as his hands were on Rafael's arms at once, sliding up over his shoulders. When Rafael arched up to kiss him, Carisi bent to meet him, lips parting easily in invitation. It was an invitation he was happy to accept, licking into the younger man's mouth as he gently but insistently backed him up against the wall. Carisi grunted but didn't break the kiss. Rafael caught his lower lip between his, flicking his tongue over it, and sighed his contentment as Carisi's hand threaded through his hair.

"Hi," Carisi murmured against his mouth, a little dazed.

"Hi," he replied, smirking, and slid his hands between them, undoing the button of Carisi's fly and tugging down the zipper. He was pleased to find he was already half erect.

"Jesus," Carisi laughed nervously, and Rafael silenced him with another searing kiss. It was faster than they usually moved, yes, but there had been plenty of other nights with little more than a few pleasantries exchanged before they got down to business. They were busy men, after all, and Rafael didn't want them harboring pretensions about what this was.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rafael was still smirking when he broke the kiss and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of Carisi's jeans and briefs. "Did you want a drink first?"

Carisi flushed the most beautiful shade of pink. "Fuck," he swore, tongue darting out to wet his kiss-bruised lips. "No, I _really_ don't." He dipped his head and captured Rafael's hungry mouth once more.

Rafael made a wordless noise of praise and pushed Sonny's clothing down over his hips and onto his thighs. He broke the kiss and pulled back just enough to look down between them, to admire Sonny's flushed cock where it bobbed between his legs. "Fuck, yes," he sighed, and looked up, making eye contact with Carisi as he spit obscenely into his palm.

"God, Raf," Carisi said hoarsely. He looked down, starting as Rafael took hold of him, groaning openly as he watched the head of his prick disappearing in and out of Rafael's fist.

This was what Rafael needed. The ragged sound of Carisi's breathing, the weight of him in his hand, the way his fingers gripped his arms and shoulders. He needed the sense of urgency, the rush of desire, the prickle of control he felt knowing he was the one making Carisi gasp and moan and hiss. Everything else could fade away, the past and the pain and the suffering they faced day after day. There could just be this moment, this escape, this release.

"That feels so good," Carisi breathed, dipping his head, resting his forehead against Rafael's. 

Rafael didn't tease. He didn't want to wait, didn't want to drag it out. He wanted more. More of the sounds his lover was making, more of the way he trembled and shook. He moved his hand fast, rougher than he usually was when he jerked Carisi, pleased to find it had him thrusting up into his fist with stuttering hips. Rafael used his free hand to push against the other man's shoulder, leaning in close to him, holding his back pinned up against the wall.

They had only just started, Carisi in the door barely five minutes, but he was already choking out gasps and digging his fingertips into Rafael's shoulders. 

"I'm—fuck, Jesus, Rafael..." He groaned and jerked his hips as Rafael squeezed him tight at the base of his dick. "God. I'm not going to last if... if you—oh, god."

"Good," Rafael barely recognized his own voice as he began to move his hand again, fast, his tight grip slicked by precome. He was chasing Carisi's orgasm, shamelessly. "I want to make you come."

It didn't take much more than that, really. Rafael wasn't surprised. Carisi always liked to do just what he was told. 

He moaned loud and low, his head rolling back and hitting Rafael's wall with a solid thunk as he shook and thrust and spilled through Rafael's fingers. Rafael stroked him through it, past it, until Carisi was hissing with oversensitivity and pushing weakly at Rafael's arm to stop him.

"Fuck," Carisi sighed, and then again. He wrapped long fingers around the back of Rafael's neck, pulling him into a needy kiss even as Rafael wiped his hand, streaked with Carisi's come, onto the younger man's shirt. He groaned and broke the kiss, looking down at his shirt with a weak, breathy laugh. "Oh no, come on, not my shirt..!" 

"My apologies to, uh," he looked at Carisi's chest. "Whatever 'Mudhoney' is." He didn't even make an attempt to sound sorry.

"Heathen," the younger man shook his head and tugged his jeans and underwear back up over his hips before pulling Rafael close again and kissing his neck. "That was so fucking hot."

"Mm." Rafael slid his hands up under Carisi's shirt, along his lean sides. 

"I mean it," Carisi murmured against his ear, palming Rafael's ass lazily as he nuzzled his nose into his neck. "Like you couldn't wait to get your hands on me... I don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it."

That same sick feeling from before twisted again in Rafael's stomach, creeping in at the edges of his mind. What had gotten into him? He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to push it away and breathed in deep instead, taking in the faint, masculine scent of his cologne and trying to ground himself in it. He took Carisi's hand in his own and dragged it between his legs to where his cock pressed against his zipper.

"If only you suffered from a similar affliction," he murmured and forced a grin. Wanting Carisi, and wanting Carisi to help him turn off his mind for just a little while.

Carisi smiled, sweet and oblivious, and dipped to kiss him again even as his hands worked nimbly to undo his slacks. Rafael sighed when Carisi's hand slipped into his boxer briefs and long fingers curled around his prick. Carisi took his time; he always did when he could, prone to teasing and building Rafael up. It was always good, it was usually damn near perfect, but tonight the teasing strokes and tugs weren't quite right. He rolled his hips up toward the younger man's hand.

"Come on, Detective," Rafael goaded, wishing he didn't sound quite so needy. "I didn't invite you over here to waste my time."

Carisi chuckled, low and lazy, but the pace of his hand picked up at once. "God, you're fucking mouthy, you know that?" 

He tightened his grip, and Rafael hissed. That was it, that was better. He closed his eyes and tugged Carisi down into another bruising kiss, rocking his hips forward encouragingly, fucking into the tight ring of Carisi's fist. He licked into his mouth, gripping the back of his neck as he used his whole body trying to find a rhythm that would get him there. 

It was better, but it still wasn't right. He was aching, his mind and heart racing, the only thing anchoring him to the moment was Carisi's mouth on his. He drank kisses from his lips, hungry, desperate, wanting to lose himself, wanting to fucking come, wanting to block out his brain for just five fucking minutes.

They broke apart to breathe, but it wasn't air Rafael needed. He tilted his chin up toward Sonny, his mouth open and waiting, wanting to be kissed again but unable to close the gap.

"Rafael."

He swayed forward, tried to pull Carisi close again, but the other man resisted. His hand on his dick slowed to a stop, and Rafael let out a sound of frustration as Carisi let go of him completely, sliding his hand free of his boxer briefs.

"Rafael, what's wrong?" Carisi asked, his voice too soft and filled with deep concern.

"You stopped," Rafael frowned, blinking bleary eyes. 

"No, I mean..." Carisi touched Rafael's face and drew his hand back. His fingers were wet. "You're crying."

Rafael flinched back as though he had been struck.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

“There’s obviously something wrong,” Carisi said, wiping a tear from Rafael’s cheek with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “You know you can talk to me, right? It doesn’t have to be just—“ he gestured between them where both of their pants were undone.

“It’s nothing,” Rafael protested again, but with less bite this time. He pushed his hips forward. “Are you going to get me off or not? Otherwise, why are you here?”

“No,” Carisi fastened the button on Rafael’s pants, then stepped back to do the same on his own. Rafael could see that his words had stung the younger man, but he wasn't sorry. He had meant for them to sting. “I’m not. Not until you tell me what this is about.”

Rafael was staring at a spot on the floor. “I told you…”

“Is it your dad?”

Rafael’s head snapped up at that, fire in his eyes. “You don’t get to ask me that. How do you even—“

“People talk.”

“People need to mind their own business.” It was pointed. Carisi didn’t care.

“I’m just trying to help you. These cases…”

“Are way worse than mine. Okay?" Rafael wielded his truth as a weapon, with all the sharpness of an accusation. As though Carisi's questions had caused all this to happen in the first place. "Yes, my father was a bastard. Yes, he beat me, at least he did when he wasn’t beating my mother to within an inch of her life. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No, I just—”

“But I didn’t have to drink bleach and no one burned me with cigarettes. It was nothing compared to what these kids went through, okay? So just drop it.”

“Is that what you think?” Carisi asked, the pity Rafael had been dreading evident in his tone. “No one poured bleach down your throat so no one should care about what happened to you?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Not for you, it wasn’t.” Carisi stepped forward again, lifting his hand.

“Don’t,” Rafael warned, but as always, Carisi persisted, returning his hand to his cheek.

“It’s okay, Raf. I care.”

It was gentle and earnest and it broke him. His body slumped forward all on its own, he had no choice in the matter, and Carisi bore the weight of him, wrapping his arms around him silently.

"It wasn't all the time," he finally said, his voice raw. "My mother would never have put up with it all the time. She left him. She was... she is... she's remarkable." It was absurd to say that, of all the things he was feeling, but he suddenly couldn't bear the thought of Carisi thinking badly of his mother.

"I believe it," Carisi murmured into his hair. "She'd have to be. You are."

"I hate being pitied," Rafael spat, though the breaking of his voice ruined any authority his words might have carried. "I hate being coddled."

"I don't pity you, and I'm not trying to coddle you." Carisi's voice was sterner than Rafael expected, he sounded nearly exasperated, and somehow that made it so much easier for Rafael to stay in his arms. "Jesus. You can't be made of stone all the time, Rafael. It's okay to have feelings. You'd be a monster if you didn't have them sometimes, in our line of work. It's not a crime to have been through shit and to be affected by it. It's not a weakness to need someone, once and awhile."

Rafael let out a shaking breath and Carisi pressed his lips to his hairline. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

"I can be that person for you, if you'd let me."

It was all too much. Carisi was asking too much, wanted too much, was offering too much. Rafael wanted boundaries. He wanted walls and clear delineations between their lives. He wanted Carisi to exist in a liminal space, as a colleague kept at a professional distance - except when he called him over to fuck. All the lines he had worked so hard to draw were blurring now, and Rafael wanted them back.

But even more than that, at this moment, hurting and exhausted and drunk, he wanted Carisi to keep holding him. Rafael curled his arms around Carisi's waist, finally, and pulled him closer.

"He's been dead for over fifteen years," Rafael said, at last, unable to address the complicated issue of Carisi's offer, and instead silently accepting it. At least for now. "I'm tired of being affected by it."

"I know," Carisi said, kissing his temple.

"I just want to do my job."

"You can. You are."

Rafael scoffed.

"Alright, alright. Maybe not right now, but you'll do it tomorrow."

"I wanted to fuck," he complained, petulant, and Carisi laughed. The sound caused something tight in Rafael's chest to uncoil.

"I'm still here if you're still up for it."

Rafael grumbled under his breath, incoherent and irritated, and pushed his face against Carisi's neck. The mood had been effectively ruined.

He could feel Carisi's lips curling into a smile. "Well, there's always tomorrow for that, too."

Rafael let out a shuddering breath, a poor substitute for a laugh, but said no more. He let himself drift instead, let himself be soothed by the slow circles Carisi's hands made on his back, the warmth of his breath in his hair, grounded by his steady heartbeat. Slowly his breathing evened out and the galloping emotion that raced through him slowed, and faded. He felt wrung out and exhausted, as though he hadn't slept in weeks.

"I'm tired," he said, at last, not much more than a breath against Carisi's throat.

"Yeah," Carisi replied, and drew back, rubbing his hands warmly over Rafael's upper arms. "Let's get you into bed."

"I'm not a child," Rafael spit, though he felt the acid in his voice was undermined by how worn out he sounded.

"I know," Carisi said. "So what can I do?"

Rafael wanted to tell Carisi to leave. To go home, forget tonight had ever happened, and to return to the neat compartment that Rafael had made for him in his life. Unmessy, uncomplicated. 

"Stay," he said instead, and Carisi smiled, the lines around his blue eyes crinkling. The painful knot in Rafael's chest loosened a little more, and he tried not to think about what that meant.

"I'm not going anywhere," Carisi said, and reached out, taking Rafael's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from "Animal Life" by Shearwater.


	13. everything you're not supposed to be to someone that you love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Thirteen Prompt: X  
> S17, E5 - Community Policing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I couldn't have written this chapter without BarbaXCarisi, who betaed, edited, and all around fixed the broken parts, as well as texting me every day to ask if I was writing. She's the best, and all the best parts of this. <3
> 
> Also big shout out to my awesome and perfect wife, who listened to me yell at this for days. <3 <3
> 
> Comments and kudos are love.

As Sonny stepped off of the elevator, he could hear the constant, rhythmic recitations coming from the protestors down on the street below. Here on the fifth floor, he couldn’t make out exactly what was being chanted, but the sound was unmistakable. He’d driven by them on the way to Barba’s office and they were only one of the many factions that had popped up all over the city in the three days since Terrence Reynolds had been shot and killed by Detectives Dumas and Campisi and Sergeant Donlan.

An innocent and unarmed black man killed by police was a nightmare scenario. He’d been walking around feeling sick since the night of the shooting, and he couldn’t imagine Barba was feeling any better. 

Which is what had brought him here. 

“Hey Carmen, how are you doing?” 

Carmen was already standing to intercept him as Sonny crossed in front of her desk toward Barba’s door. 

“He doesn’t want to be disturbed,” she said in reply, and that she skipped over pleasantries told him everything he needed to know about her day. Sonny wasn’t surprised; with all the pressure coming down on Barba, Carmen had to be feeling it too. 

Sonny gave Carmen his most winning smile and held up the bright orange bag in his hand. “I brought cronuts,” he said. “Figured his day could use a bright spot. There’s plenty if you want one.”

Watching her eyes flick between him, the bag, and Barba’s door, he knew he had her. 

“Let me check with him,” she said, after a moment’s consideration, and then gave him a measured look. “This is just because I think he’d want the distraction.”

“Sure, but I’ll put one on your desk anyway.” Sonny was already using tissue paper to place a pastry on a napkin next to Carmen’s coffee cup as she rapped on Barba’s door and stepped halfway in. He privately enjoyed that Carmen thought of him as a welcome distraction as opposed to an annoyance.

“Mr. Barba?” Sonny couldn’t quite make out Barba’s reply to Carmen, but he could hear the timbre of his voice. “I know, but Detective Carisi is here. Yes, I thought you might. Yes. I’ll send him in.” She stepped back and held the door open. Sonny shot her another smile as he walked into Barba’s office, and she returned it before shutting the door behind him.

Barba was smiling at him, and Sonny’s eyes crinkled in pleasure. 

“Detective,” he said warmly, leaning back in his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I thought you deserved a treat,” Sonny hoisted the bag again. “Have you tried a cronut yet?”

“Isn’t there something like an hour long line?” His tone was derisive, but his eyes were on the bag where it swung from Sonny’s fingers. Sonny wasn’t surprised; he knew by now that food was always a well-received gift when it came to Barba.

“It’s died down. Plus, New York’s finest can usually cut the line anytime a donut is involved.”

Sonny grinned, but Barba’s smile withered and died.

Tension was written all across Barba’s body, even more obvious once his smile wasn’t masking it. Sonny crossed to him, perching on the edge of his desk and holding out the bag. That Barba didn’t take it was a testament to how much stress he must be under.

“Something I said?” he joked, but Barba didn’t smile. He set the bag on the desk and continued, more seriously. “Things are bad for you, huh? Benson says you’re convening a grand jury.”

“The whole city is on boil,” Barba said with a sigh, finally plucking a pastry from the bag. “The DA says it's my last chance to work my way back into the good graces of City Hall.”

“So they're hanging you out to dry,” Sonny frowned. 

“I’ve been in better positions.” Barba pulled the cronut apart with his fingers, trying a bite before he went on. “The NYPD’s PR czar was in here telling me to sweep this under the rug as fast as possible so the city could have healing and clarity. The commissioner wants me to make it clear that New York isn’t Baltimore or Ferguson, as though this isn’t part of a pattern, as though this didn’t just happen in Staten Island.”

Sonny felt his stomach twist. Barba wasn’t wrong, but he felt the need to defend Doom and Campisi. “I mean, this isn’t really the same, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Barba asked, frowning. “The Reynolds family and Henderson and Reverend Curtis want me to send a message. Politicians want an indictment. The DA wants an indictment and if I fail to get it, it's on me.”

“Wait, so you'll push for one, even though those officers were just doing their jobs?” Sonny knew there would have to be a grand jury, but he had never really imagined there would be an indictment. Not in this case.

“Their jobs? They fired at an unarmed college student thirty-five times.” Barba had abandoned the pastry and was scrubbing his hands with a napkin, clearly irritated. 

“I mean, we were in hot pursuit of a dangerous rapist,” he explained, wanting to make the other man understand, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. “Terrence matched the BOLO down to his jersey, he ran.”

“A black man in a basketball jersey runs when he gets stopped by the police? You're right, he deserves the death penalty.” Barba pushed back from his desk, standing. 

“You know that's not what I'm saying,” he said, still desperately wanting to make Barba understand. “They were in the heat of the chase. It was dark. They were in the projects.”

Anger flashed in Barba’s eyes, and Sonny knew at once he’d said the wrong thing. “Oh, God knows, any kid in the projects…”

“No, come on, no.” Sonny straightened up, frustrated. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Good thing I never matched the description of a rapist back then,” Barba shot back, stalking across his office as though he couldn’t stand to be close to him. It wasn’t far, a matter of feet, but Sonny could feel the gulf opening between them.

“You wouldn’t have run from the police!” Barba’s unmasked disdain had Sonny’s temper rising and he struggled to keep himself from raising his voice.

“Can you hear yourself right now?!” Barba snapped, staring at him with disgust. 

Sonny struggled to keep himself from snapping. He took a deep breath instead, deliberately slowing himself down. He didn’t understand why Barba was being like this; they were on the same side. He worked with cops every day.

“They were following procedure,” he finally said, slowly. “They were doing what any cop would have done in their situation.”

“Any cop?” Barba asked, pointedly. “Even you?” 

“I…” Sonny wanted to say yes, but the words wouldn’t come.

“That’s what I thought.” 

“I wasn’t in that situation,” Sonny said, even as his stomach twisted guiltily. The idea of shooting anyone, much less an innocent kid, made bile rise in his throat. At the same time, he felt compelled to stand up for his fellow officers. “If I had been…”

“You wouldn’t have emptied your clip into an unarmed kid, Sonny!” He didn’t know if Barba shouting his first name was a sign of his anger, or an attempt to appeal to his better nature. Either way, Sonny’s impulse was to yell back, but he bit back the urge and instead stepped closer to Barba.

“Look, I know this is a tragic situation, but they're not bad apples,” he cajoled, voice soft and reasonable, as though through tone alone he could make Barba understand. “No charges of excessive force. No accusations of racism. And commendations for integrity, meritorious police duty.” 

Barba’s lip curled. “So even our best and brightest are gunning down innocents.” 

“They believed the suspect had a weapon and was a threat to themselves and civilians,” he said, unsure if he was trying to convince himself or Barba, but desperate to convince one of them.

“Yes, that’s what I keep hearing.” Barba’s unchecked sarcasm made Sonny’s temper spike. 

“Bottom line, if I was in their shoes, I'd have fired too,” Sonny said, anger helping him to spit out the words, even as everything inside him screamed that it wasn’t true. 

Barba turned, staring at him in open disgust. The look on his face was as ugly as Sonny felt. “This thin blue line routine was bad enough coming from Olivia, but I really didn’t expect this from you.”

“I don’t know what you expected from me,” he said, throwing up his hands. He didn’t know why Barba was making this so hard, making him defend something so terrible and tragic, as though he had wanted it to happen. As though it didn’t make him sick to think of how young that kid had looked, bleeding out on the sidewalk while Benson had yelled for him to find a gun that didn’t exist.

“I expected you to be better than this. They killed an innocent kid because he was black in a poor neighborhood. They were trigger happy. They shot thirty-five times. You’re trying to tell me they would have done that if he’d been white? If they’d been in Tribeca?” Barba shook his head. “If they had waited one second longer, Terrance Reynolds would still be alive.” 

“I know that,” Sonny admitted. He wished he didn’t sound so guilty. 

Barba didn’t let up. “Yes, you do! And knowing that, you still can’t say they did something wrong? That they’re guilty of a crime?”

"Look, until you've been there, you can't say what was the right thing, okay?” Sonny was raising his voice now too, despite himself. Suddenly all he could think about was being held at gunpoint, the memory vivid and raw, and he tasted bile at the back of his mouth. “You don't know what it's like to be out on the street and wondering if this is the night when you're gonna end up on the wrong side of a gunshot. That's what we face every damn day when we put on a badge." 

"And thanks to your fellow officers, that's what young black men in this city face every damn day just for walking out the door.”

“That’s not fair,” Sonny protested, not half as confident as he sounded.

“You’re right, it’s not. Now get out.”

He and Barba may have disagreed before, but he’d never ordered him out like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him. Sonny wasn’t done and had no intention of leaving until he was. He wanted Barba to understand him, to listen to him, to try to see his side. He made a clumsy attempt at a different angle. “What, you don’t want to talk about my grand jury testimony?”

Unsurprisingly, Barba saw through him.

“I think you’ve made the tone of your testimony perfectly clear. You can go.”

“Fine.” Sonny started toward the door but stopped before he opened it. He didn’t want to leave things like this with Barba. He chewed his lip a moment and turned. “Look. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Barba snapped, accusatory. 

“I don’t want to fight with you.” Barba looked disgusted by his answer, but Sonny pressed on. “I mean it. Maybe I could come over tonight and make you dinner, and we could talk? This is a shitty situation, but I don’t want it to come between us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Detective.”

He wasn’t in the mood for games. “It’s just you and me in here; you know damn well there is.”

“Do I? We aren’t a couple, we aren’t lovers, we’re not even friends. We were colleagues who fucked, and we’re certainly not that anymore.” 

“What, are you serious?” Sonny stared at Barba as though he’d been struck.

“Whatever you thought this was, it’s over.” There was an awful finality to Barba’s voice that turned Sonny’s blood cold.

He felt like he was floating outside of his body. It wasn’t like him to panic, but there was no other way to describe how he was feeling now. His pulse was rushing in his ears, as though it could drown out the words Barba was saying.

“Barba - Rafael, come on, you can’t mean that.” He could hear his voice scaling up, but he couldn’t stop it. “Because we had a fight?”

“Because you aren’t the person I thought you were.”

It had only been a few days ago that he had woken up with Barba’s head pillowed on his chest, his breath warm on his skin, and now he was looking at him like he was a criminal.

Or worse, like he was a stranger.

“We’re done here.”

“This isn’t just sex, you know that it isn’t.” His voice had grown desperate, pleading, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t let it end this way. “I know it’s more than that, I have-- I care about you, I know that you have feelings for me, this is something, it’s real.”

“It was nothing. It was a distraction, and not one I care to continue. Now get the hell out of my office.”

“Rafael, please--”

“Get. Out.”

The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in his ears like a gunshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Everything You're Not Supposed To Be" by Melanie Laurent ft. Damien Rice
> 
> SORRY SURPRISE I KNOW THERE'S NO SEX IN IT. I feel guilty for deceiving you, I knew I was gonna do this chapter from the beginning! I love you all, I'm sorry for the pain!


End file.
